


The Outfield

by EdgarAllenPoet



Series: The Outfield [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, BDSM, Bondage, Bratting, Bruises, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, It's not a romantic relationship so much as it's a bromance with occasional ass beatings, M/M, Minor Allura/Shiro (Voltron), Minor Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Safe Sane and Consensual, This has absolutely nothing to do with baseball, Underage Drinking, everyone has a good time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 01:18:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 92,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10478832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgarAllenPoet/pseuds/EdgarAllenPoet
Summary: "The first time Lance meets Keith, Rihanna’s “S&M” is playing in the background, which Lance thinks is incredibly ironic considering where they are.  Also, Keith’s naked."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I get a little carried away listening to music on my walk to work, and this is one of those times.
> 
> The title "The Outfield" is based on the song "Your Love." There aren't enough kink fics that show the BDSM community as it actually is, and I've been wanting to write one for a while now. Klance just happened to fit.

“...I know this isn’t normally your style-” 

 

“Dude, it’s cool. Give me a ride, and I’m in.” 

 

“I owe you one, bud.” 

 

…

  
  


The first time Lance meets Keith, Rihanna’s “S&M” is playing in the background, which Lance thinks is incredibly ironic considering where they are.  Also, Keith’s naked. 

 

And okay, maybe Lance is exaggerating a little bit here, because he didn’t technically “meet” Keith that night, so much as he stood near the edge of the stage and drooled over him.  And Keith wasn’t “naked,” but since the only clothing he was wearing were skin tight boxer briefs, inky black against his pale skin, and since he was strapped to a spanking bench, Lance figured that counted as “naked” enough. 

 

Lance wasn’t really into impact play, so he didn’t know what had him so mesmerized about the show on the stage in front of him.  It wasn’t like this was his first time at Altea, the venue that was a gay bar most of the time, but doubled as a BDSM club on every other Sunday evening. It was a weird schedule, and kind of hard to keep up with, but Lance found a way to coordinate between his calendar and his fetlife account.  It worked out. 

 

Lance wasn’t new there, though.  He was a  _ sophomore _ now, and totally more secure in this type of thing.  He’d spent his freshman year of college sneaking off on Sunday evenings, wrestling his own guilt, and lying to his roommate.  Now he was doing all of those things (still), but he was slightly more determined, and he understood the bus system.

 

Anyways, he shouldn’t have been this gobsmacked by the scene playing out in front of him.  He’d seen something like this a dozen times before, large muscled doms dragging pretty little somethings on the stage and smacking them with various implements while catchy club music blasted in the background.  Lance’s favorite scenes were the rope ones.  They were quiet and precise and intimate, which were three things that Lance wasn’t usually good at.  Rope, though…  Rope made sense for him. 

 

This wasn’t rope.  This was some shaggy hair kid sprawled out on the stage, moaning and tugging at the cuffs around his wrists while the dom took him apart piece by piece, smack by smack, taking his time and spacing them out, but definitely not pulling any punches.  

 

The boy bit his lip and screwed his eyes shut, writhing as the dom dragged a riding crop over the already flaming skin of his upper back, where he’d gone to town moments earlier with a riding crop, and Rihanna sang “- _ sticks and stones may break my bones _ -”

 

It looked like it hurt.  Yeah… definitely not Lance’s thing.  

 

His dick didn’t seem to agree, and his brain wasn’t helping much either.  He couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t tear his eyes away, and Lance was mostly sure he was a bottom at this point, but  _ God _ , he’d love to play with that guy. 

 

The sub, that was.  The dom scared him more than a little bit, and while Lance would really  _ like _ to find a dom, that just wasn’t working out.  He needed to build up some more confidence before he walked up to someone and said, “Hey, you look trustworthy, will you please hogtie me?”  The fake ass confidence he used in his daily life wasn’t gonna fly in that situation.  

 

“Ah-  _ fuck _ !” the sub on stage yelled, pressing his face to the bench and jolting forward.  The dom tangled his hand in the kid’s hair and tugged his head back. 

 

“What did I say about speaking?” he ground out, quiet enough that Lance just barely made out the words over the pounding music.  He watched the sub and dom hold eye contact for a long,  _ long _ moment, something stripped away in their expressions, like they were trying to trade thoughts without speaking, or like they were considering something very hard. 

 

The sub must have made up his mind for the both of them, because he yanked his head to the side and spat out a  _ ‘fuck you.’ _  The dom smirked, moved around to the back of the bench, and smacked him again. 

 

A conversation to Lance’s right caught his attention, and he turned to find two women talking about the show on stage.  “Yeah, he got Keith to fill in as the sub for tonight.  It’s the guy’s first show, but he’s doing well.  Must have an exhibitionist streak.”

 

“You’d never guess it.  He’s so shy.” 

 

“It’s always the quiet ones.” 

 

“Bummer, though.  He’s hot, but I was looking forward to seeing you take Shiro down hard.” 

 

The lady laughed, tossing her head back and making her hair tumble over her shoulder like some kind of silver waterfall.  “We need a  _ special _ occasion for that,” she said.  

 

Lance didn’t know who Shiro was.  He also didn’t know the lady’s name, but he knew she’d been around a while.  He saw her every single Sunday that Altea was open to the kink community, mingling and talking with everyone.  She had a few choice outfits she switched between, leather and latex and other similar things.  Always skin tight.  Always hot as  _ hell _ .  

 

Lance had tried to ask her out on his first or second night, and he’d gotten shut down  _ hard. _  Apparently that was a thing for her, both in the bedroom and out of it.  Lance was only slightly disappointed, but his pride was definitely stung.  He’d had a year to get over it, but he still felt his stomach clench with humiliation anytime he thought too hard about it. 

 

Unimportant.  Lance tore his eyes away from them before they noticed him staring and called him out.  He didn’t want to be  _ that guy. _  He focused back on the stage, where the sub was panting and shiny with sweat and just barely starting to tremble.   _ Keith _ , Lance thought.  Huh. 

 

He watched as the dom discarded the paddle he’d been using onto a table of other implements, thin clear plastic surrounded by black leather and dark wood.  He made his way back to the sub, running his hand up the sub-  _ Keith’s _ \- thighs, his back, through his hair.  He saw the dom’s mouth moving, saying things quietly and just for the two of them, as he unbuckled Keith’s wrists and placed tender kisses to the skin there, checking them carefully for bruises and rubbing them to get circulation going again.  Lance knew what he was doing.  He’d read all the pdf files, all the advice columns.  Bondage safety was important, and Lance had it  _ covered _ .  

 

Apparently so did the dominant, but then again, you probably had to know what you were doing before they let you onstage.  That meant  _ Keith _ had to know what he was doing, and wow… that was kind of impressive.  He didn’t look very much older than Lance was, and Lance hadn’t done  _ shit _ .  

 

The dom guided Keith off the bench, keeping his hands on him and helping him stay steady on his feet.  A voice came over the music, somewhere in a soundbooth Lance couldn’t see.  “Alright guys, there’s a impact 101 class next Saturday at Building Blocks.  See Allura for information on that.”  The pair made their way off stage, followed by quiet applause and a few wolf whistles, and Lance had to bat away the twinge of disappointment.  He wondered who Allura was, and what actually took place at an impact class anyways.  It sounded terrifying, but thrilling, and 100x better than Lance’s “Intro to Business Writing” lectures.  

 

Maybe it was an orgy.

 

He wondered if Keith would be there, if Keith went to those kinds of things, or if he even needed to go to classes at this point.  If he was experienced enough to be onstage at Altea, he was probably too experienced for classes.    

 

“They should be heading down here in a little while,” one of the women said, and Lance’s stomach flipped over.  They’d be coming out here. Lance might get the chance to talk to them, but… no.  What if he said something wrong? What if he said something stupid? What if he humiliated himself and could never show his face again? 

 

It had happened before, and Lance wasn’t ready to risk it. 

 

Just then, right on time, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a message from his roommate. 

 

**Jack in box?** It said. 

 

Then,  **dont make me go alone dude.**

 

Right, good. A perfect excuse.  Lance wasn’t leaving because he was spineless. He was leaving to hang out with his roommate. Yeah, totally. 

 

He caught a glimpse of the dom and sub from earlier coming down from backstage, no longer naked, but still drop dead gorgeous.  They were out faster than Lance expected them to be, honestly.  Didn’t they need to do aftercare or something?  

 

The dom looked exactly the same, if not more relaxed.  He was dressed in the same outfit he’d had onstage- black jeans secured around his waist with a leather belt, a dark grey shirt tucked in, with sleeves down to his wrists, buttoned up to his throat, and black leather gloves.  He was completely covered from the neck down, and now Keith was too, much more casual in sweat pants and a long sleeve t-shirt.  

 

Lance only caught himself staring when Keith glanced over and looked straight at him.  They locked eyes for a moment, there was no doubt about it.  It didn’t last long.  Keith pulled his eyes away when the dom gave a gentle tug, keeping them tucked close to each other as they made their way across the floor and in Lance’s direction.  Lance panicked and ran.

 

He made a beeline for the door, stopping to look back once he got there and seeing the silver haired girl and the dom embrace each other tightly.  The woman put her hand on Keith’s shoulder and said something, smiling, that made him laugh and rub at the back of his neck.  He looked so embarrassed.  It was adorable.  Lance’s heart swelled. 

 

Then Keith turned his head and caught Lance staring again.  Freaking  _ again _ . Lance felt his face heat up.  Time to go. 

 

He texted Hunk,  **omw** , and headed out the door.

 

…

 

So it was probably weird that Lance knew Keith’s name. No, not probably.  It was definitely weird.  What would he do if they ever got introduced? Pretend he doesn’t already know?

 

_ “What was it again? Ken? No, Keith, okay yeah I can totally remember that.” _

 

As if he could forget Keith’s name at this point. He’d never even met the guy and he couldn’t stop thinking about him.  The noises he’d made, the way he strolled on stage with a defiant set to his shoulders, the way he looked back at the dom over his shoulder and  _ smirked _ .  

 

Lance was screwed. Royally screwed.  He’d been uncomfortably turned on all evening, which was weird, sitting across the table from Hunk and doing a poor job of pretending to be interested in the model Hunk was describing for his architecture class. 

 

“And I’m thinking slanted windows like this-” Hunk said, drawing a line in the air with his arm.  Lance let a curly fry dangle from his fingers, twirling back and forth in hypnotizing circles, and hummed. 

 

“Uh huh.” 

 

“Okay, dude, spill.” 

 

“What’s Lance spilling?” Pidge’s voice, loud and sudden right over his shoulder, startle him enough that he jumps in his seat.  The curly fry between his fingers gives up, breaking off at the end.  The majority of it falls with a heavy  _ splat _ into the tiny tub of ranch dressing below, making it spill over the sides and all over the table.  He frowned at it. 

 

“Ranch, apparently,” Pidge said.  She walked around the booth, then slid in next to Lance and prodded at his side with pointy fingers until he moved over.  

 

“He’s hiding something,” Hunk said, levelling Lance with a suspicious glare. 

 

“Excuse me,” Lance huffed out.  “When have I ever hid anything from you?” 

 

“Every time you skip class, you tell me to lie for you and say you went,” Pidge said, eyebrow raised and voice matter of fact.  She turned to Hunk.  “I let him hide in my room, just so you know.” 

 

Hunk gasped.  “ _ Lance _ .” 

 

“One time!” Lance declared, voice too loud.  The kid working behind the cash register looked up and frowned at him.  He shot them an apologetic grin and turned back to the manner at hand.  “One time,” he repeated, quieter but just as scandalized.  “You’re a traitor, Pidge.” 

 

“Two times, excuse you.” 

 

“Okay, falling asleep in your room and not having an alarm to wake up to does  _ not count _ .” 

 

“I tried to wake you up!  But  _ someone’s _ a diva.” 

 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Hunk interrupted, waving his hands in front of them and getting them both to shut up.  Pidge stuck her tongue out at Lance, and Lance crossed his arms and scowled at her, mostly playfully.  At this point in their friendship, they had the same relationship that he had with most of his siblings, which was to basically a wild combination of ride-or-die and always ready to deck it out.  

 

“Off topic,” Hunk said. 

 

“I’m not hiding anything.” 

 

“Then what were you thinking about?” 

 

Lance’s mind went inconveniently blank, and he opened his mouth several times without finding anything useful to say.  Pidge and Hunk both narrowed their eyes, squinting at him with matching expressions.  “Suspicious.” 

 

“Oh drop it.” 

 

Hunk tilted his head to the side for a moment, staring him down, and then shook his head.  “Yeah no,” he said.  “Last time you held a secret, I found you crying in the bathroom at three a.m.” 

 

“In my defense, I wasn’t sober,” Lance protested, cringing at the memory.

 

“Because that makes it better,” Pidge deadpanned. 

 

“Besides!” Lance talked over her, knowing nothing good could ever come out of that gremlin’s mouth.  “That was a  _ school _ problem.  This is….” Oh.  Shit. 

 

“Aha!  So we know it’s not a school thing!” Pidge said.  She smirked.  So did Hunk.  They reached over the table and fist bumped without looking.  Lance folded his arms on the table and dropped his head onto them. 

 

“I hate you guys.” 

 

“No you don’t,” Hunk said matter-of-factly, pulling Lance’s curly fries out of the way and plopping one into his mouth.  Lance had ranch dressing smeared onto his elbow.  He didn’t care. 

 

“I came out to have a good time, and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now,” he complained. 

 

“You’re such a meme.” 

 

“A good meme.”  Hunk ruffled Lance’s hair and ran his fingers through it.  “A high quality meme, picked from the best meme tree.” 

 

“Still a meme.”

 

“I hate you guys.” 

 

“Was it Nyma?” Hunk asked, and Lance groaned.  Loud. 

 

“It’s not always about Nyma.” 

 

“It’s usually about Nyma, though,” Pidge said.  Lance picked his head up, just to move his arms out of the way and drop his head back on the table with a solid thud.  Pidge snorted.  Hunk started petting him again.  

 

“Don’t worry, dude.  There’s, like, a million better girls out there,” he said.  And yeah, about that.  A million better girls, and Lance was daydreaming about a pretty boy at a BDSM club.  Not exactly the kind of thing to tell your friends in the middle of a fast food joint.  ‘Hey guys, just so you know, I’m into dudes, also handcuffs, if that wasn’t weird enough already.’  

 

“You could always marry Pidge,” Hunk offered, and somehow, the fake gagging noises Pidge made above his head managed to make him feel at least a tiny bit better.  

 

He was such a mess.  At least he hadn’t embarrassed himself that evening.  He’d gotten to watch a pretty boy do lots of interesting things on stage, and maybe that was Lance’s new definition of a good weekend.  He thought about going to the Building Blocks class on Saturday.  Maybe Keith would be there.  Lance wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle seeing him up close and in person, though.  God, what kind of a creepy stalker was he?  He didn’t even  _ know _ this guy. 

 

He knew one thing, though.  Keith had his shit together.  He knew what he wanted, and how to get it, and honestly, he was way out of Lance’s league.

  
  


…

  
  


Keith's first thought when he woke up in the morning was "I think I'm dead."  Three hours later he hadn't changed his mind.  His legs felt like lead, and walking across campus was more struggle than it was worth, but he didn't have a choice.  He had studying to do, and if he put it off any longer he might as well drop out of school.

 

Which was… not an option, as tempting as that may seem. 

 

He ached in places he didn’t know he could, a few for reasons he wasn’t sure of, in at least five different ways.  It was all his own fault, really, but Shiro had needed a demo bottom for Altea after his play partner for that night came down with food poisoning, and it wasn’t like Keith could say no (he could.  Shiro wasn’t a dick about things like some people, but Keith wasn’t about to turn down opportunities like that). 

 

That would have been fine, but it just so happened that the text had come in while Keith was at the gym, killing himself in a sparring session.  He had a test coming up for his red belt and really needed to get his shit wired tight before then.  He’d dragged himself off the mat, aching and disgusting and entirely drenched with sweat, and then immediately volunteered himself for something that would put him in that exact same state just a few hours later.

 

He’d gotten home from Altea around two a.m.  He could have gotten home earlier, but Shiro had offered frozen yogurt after everyone else went home for the night.  He believed in aftercare in the form of sugary treats, and Keith wasn’t about to turn down free food, lactose intolerance be damned.  He got home with just enough time to tackle an assignment for class the next day, and passed out around four thirty a.m.. 

 

Two and a half hours later, he woke up, fell out of bed, tripped into pants and ran out the door, spitting mouth wash into the bushes as he did so.  He mentally added another bullet point to his ‘ART 101 was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made why did I do this to myself’ list and suffered through it, barely staying awake.  It turned out drawing benches were not friendly to bruises, and by the time the three hour hell-class was over Keith was sore and cranky and hated himself just a little more than usual.  What kind of idiot signs up for an eight a.m. art class?  It was masochistic tendencies in their purest form, really. 

 

When class got out Keith had two hours to study for a test later that day.  A test he… hadn’t studied for yet.  He was so fucked.  It took an astonishing amount of willpower to drag his ass to the library, the ten minute walk across campus taking closer to fifteen with how slow he was moving.  

 

His legs burned, sore from the amount of kicking he put them through the day before. His ass and thighs were throbbing softly, almost like an afterthought, and they’d be doing that for a while, he knew.  He hadn’t had time to check out the marks before class, but he knew they had to be gorgeous.  His head was pounding, protesting the brightness of the sun and the heat of the day and the fact that he was upright.  On top of that, there was a crick in his neck, and his stomach was uneasy, punishing him for the midnight lactic acid mistake he’d made.  

 

He needed coffee, some Tums, and twelve hours of sleep.  For now, he’d have to settle for only one of those things.  He shuffled into the Coffee Bean and made his zombie-like trip over to the counter, leaning against the wall and waving his hand at the closest employee, some kid whose name he couldn’t remember.  

 

The guy was a freshman who’d started work there at the start of the semester, but even after three weeks Keith couldn’t remember the kid’s name.  To be fair, they hadn’t had many shifts together, Keith working nights while his co-worker did mornings.  He recognized Keith, though, which was all that mattered.  

 

He smiled and waved a hand in greeting.  “Yo.  What do you want?” 

 

“Triple shot.” 

 

“Whoa, really?” The guy’s eyebrows shot up, and Keith was jealous of him.  Sweet summer child didn’t know the realities of college life.  Midterms would hit, and then he’d know.  For now he just needed to stop judging Keith’s coffee decisions. 

 

“I know what I said.” So maybe he was kind of grouchy, but he had plenty of reason to be.  He was  _ tired _ , okay?  And he had a test soon, and he was really more of a disaster than he had reason to be.  

 

“Alright, whatever, man,” the guy said, grabbing a cup and turning to the espresso machines.  Keith closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, only opening them again so he could take the coffee he’d ordered and offer a ‘thanks.’  Best part of working at the library coffee shop was the free drinks.  Worst part was… everything else. 

 

The fourth floor was too far of a journey to make on foot, so he gave in and took the elevator.  He could have easily picked a spot on the first floor, but those study areas were always jam packed this early in the day.  Besides, Keith was driven by stubbornness and tradition.  He might as well carve his initials in the corner cubby on the fourth floor.  He never studied anywhere else.  

 

Once the elevator stopped and he was shuffling his way past the computer desks, Keith considered pulling out his phone and texting Shiro.  Because of his grad program, Shiro was on campus almost as much as Keith was.  Shiro was great for focusing, too, known to take your phone right out of your hands and glare you down until you got your shit sorted out. 

 

Something told him that Shiro’s stern approach to studying would only be counterproductive at this point.  Keith already had an aching ass.  Being around Shiro would do very little for his concentration. 

 

Maybe it wouldn’t matter, though.  When Keith got to his seat (blessedly empty, thank  _ fuck _ ), he was startled out of his sleep-like haze by someone screaming.  

 

Okay, maybe not screaming, but they were loud.  Way too loud for the library.  Keith looked around, orienting towards the source of the noise, which just so happened to be a boy sitting at a table just a few yards away.  The boy burst out laughing, loud guffaws that filled the entire fourth floor and spilled over the balcony, banging a hammer against Keith’s aching temples.  

 

He turned and glared, watching as whoever was sitting next to the guy reached over and smacked him across the back of the head.  “Shut  _ up _ !” they hissed.  The guy just laughed louder.  Keith pulled his hood up over his head and glared, hoping to either block out the sound or make eye contact with the guy and tell him to shut up personally. 

 

He missed his chance, though.  The boy did eventually turn his head and look in Keith’s direction, smile lighting up his entire face as he did so.  He seemed to look straight through Keith, not even noticing he was there, but Keith couldn’t help but look. 

 

Keith recognized that face.  He swore he did.  He wasn’t sure where, but he hoped it was just from around campus, in class or in the SU or in the dorms.  Something pried at the back of his head, though, the memory of the same tanned face, brown hair, wide eyes sparkling as he looked up at Keith from right in front of the stage the night prior. 

 

And no, there was no way Keith knew him from Altea.  He had to be imaging that, thinking up weird situations and trying to fit the guy into them.  Keith hadn’t even been aware of who was watching him, the same way he wasn’t during scenes at play parties.  He didn’t like people staring at him, so he did his best to ignore it. 

 

If Mr. Laughs-too-loud had been in the audience last night, there was no way Keith would have known.  Even so, he felt his face heating up and quickly pulled his head back around, tugging his hood tighter around his head and staring straight ahead into his cubby. 

 

He was tired, that was all.  He’d put in earbuds and block out the noise.  He’d chug his coffee and tackle his class notes and kick ass on his test in a few hours.  That was it.  Keith had a plan, and he had a list of things  _ not _ to think about.  It would be fine.  

  
The boy laughed again.  Keith cringed and dug his earbuds out of his bag, shoving them into his ears and putting his phone on shuffle.  He unearthed his powerpoint slides and gave one final sigh at them before leaning forward, ignoring the burst of pain that came from that, and going to town.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Unfortunately, Lance was useless. The only things he could think to say were wildly inappropriate, such as “Yo, dude, do you still have bruises?” and “Hey, we’ve never met, but I know your name!” and “Can I add you on fetlife?” Blessed be the Lord, he didn’t say any of those things.
> 
> He said something much worse."

The second time Lance meets Keith, “Apple Bottom Jeans” is blasting through his earbuds.  Maybe it was weird that blatantly sexual music was playing both times Lance had met Keith so far, but in his defense, he hadn’t planned to see Keith that morning.  He didn’t even know they went to the same university, but there he was.

 

One second Lance was running through the door of his lab, mere minutes left to spare before getting another tardy demerit, T Pain singing “ _She hit the floor- she hit the floor!  Next thing ya’ know….”_

 

The next, he was barreling directly into someone, both of them crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs and textbooks and surprised squawking noises.  There was a splash, and a crash, and Lance banged his elbow hard into the linoleum as he landed directly on top of someone, a cup of boiling hot coffee exploding between them and absolutely soaking the other person.  It stung where drops hit his own neck, but not too much of it actually got on him.

 

“Ah _fuck!_ ” the guy yelled, and Lance had every intention of getting off the floor and helping him clean up.  He really did.  But then the guy had to go and ruin it, completely killing Lance’s train of thought.  Because Lance knew that voice.  He’d heard those exact words just a few days before, and there, glaring up at him through a mop of familiar black hair, was Keith.

 

T Pain sang, _“...She turned around, gave that big booty a-_ ”

 

Lance said, “Oh my God.”  Very intelligent.  He was an honor’s student, he really was.

 

“What the _fuck?_ ” Keith hissed, shoving at Lance’s shoulders and squirming, trying to get out from under him and probably off the ground.  Lance sprang back to life and clambered clumsily to his own feet, struggling for balance and offering a hand to Keith when he finally managed to get upright.

 

Keith wasn’t having it.  He knocked the hand away and stood up on his own in one fluid movement, no clumsiness at all.  Once up, he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at Lance, expression expectant, like he was waiting for Lance to say something.

 

Unfortunately, Lance was useless.The only things he could think to say were wildly inappropriate, such as “Yo, dude, do you still have bruises?” and “Hey, we’ve never met, but I know your name!” and “Can I add you on fetlife?” Blessed be the Lord, he didn’t say any of those things.

 

He said something much worse.  

 

“Dude,” he said.  “Walk much?”

 

Keith’s face twisted from annoyed, to confused, to damn near enraged.  “I-I- you- but-” he stuttered out, then shook his head and threw his arms out to the side.  “ _You_ ran into _me_ !” he exclaimed, and yeah, Lance knew that, but now everyone in their class had turned to stare at the scene they were making, and Lance wasn’t about to _admit to it._

 

He did feel bad about covering Keith in coffee, though.  In another stroke of genius, or maybe just a literal stroke, he said, “You look pretty wet, there,” and immediately wanted to smack himself.

 

He was surprised Keith didn’t smack him.  Keith did turn an alarmingly bright shade of red, mouth twisting up in a snarl.  He shoulder checked Lance out of the way, moving past him to grab paper towels from the dispenser on the wall.  Thank God this happened in a lab and not a lecture hall.  These rooms were practically made to deal with this.

 

Clean up, right.  That was something Lance should help with. He crouched down at the same time Keith did, but his sneaker slipped on some of the spilled coffee, and he stumbled forward, catching his hands on the floor to keep his balance.  Also knocking straight into Keith.  Again.  Keith flailed and fell back on his ass.  Lance’s mouth fell open.

 

“Oh my _God_ , are you okay?” he asked.  Keith stared at him with the most judgmental expression, mouth slightly open and tilted down into a frown, eyebrow raised.  

 

“ _Now_ you ask,” he complained, pushing himself back up and dabbing at the coffee puddle with the paper towels.  Lance scoffed, offended.  

 

“What? Are you hurt, princess?” he asked, and wow, what was with him today?  He wracked his mind to remember if he’d taken his meds that morning, knowing that sometimes his mouth was hard to control when he didn’t.  ADHD was a bitch, and so was Lance, sometimes.  It wasn’t good for making friends.

 

Exhibit A: Keith.

 

“Just get out of the way,” Keith grumbled.  “I don’t need your help.”

 

Lance shrugged and picked his bag off the floor, slinging it over his shoulder and slipping his discarded pen behind his ear.  After a second thought, he gathered Keith’s books up as well, which were a much bigger mess.  They’d been in a stack instead of in a backpack.

 

“Leave them,” Keith snapped, finishing up with the floor and tossing the soiled paper towels into a nearby trash can.  Lance pulled the books to his chest and stood.  

 

“I’m _helping_ ,” he quipped.

 

“I don’t need your help.”

 

“Too bad!”

 

“Give me my books back!”

 

“Gentlemen.”  Someone at the front of the room cleared their throat, and Lance whipped his head around to see their unimpressed lab instructor staring them down.  The TA in charge of this class was a neurobiology graduate student who very obviously didn’t want to be there.  She was sixty three inches of intimidation and fear tactics, and Lance felt his face catch fire as she frowned at them from across the room.  Thirty identical expressions stared as well, all from students who were more than ready to get class started so they could _leave_.  It was too early for this shit.  Lance knew it was.  He clutched the books tighter to his chest, ignoring Keith’s scowl.

 

“Sorry,” he said.

 

“If you’ll please take your seats.”

 

The lab was full, because apparently four weeks in was still early enough in the semester that everyone hadn’t given up hope on their stupidly early biology lab and abandoned ship.  The only vacant seats were right at the back, one empty lab station with two stools right next to each other.

 

Well… perfect.

 

Keith trudged over, yanked the stool back, and practically threw himself into it.  Lance watched, then cast a glance between his the TA and his new lab partner, before hurrying after and sitting down next to him.

 

“Alright, now that we can start….”  Lance didn’t actually listen to her lecture.  BIO 100 was basically just ‘fun with microscopes,’ and he was kind of useless at focusing today anyways.  He thought vaguely that Keith might pay attention and tell him what they were supposed to be doing, but judging by the look on his face, probably not.  Lance gulped and slid his books back over to him.  They left a smear of coffee on their lab table, shiny against the black stone.  There was a wet spot on Lance’s t-shirt.  Awesome.

 

“You smell gross,” he murmured under his breath.  Keith didn’t even glance over at him.

 

He shot back, “Wonder why…” and slumped further in his chair.  “You owe me a coffee, asshole.”

 

Lance rolled his eyes and slouched, matching Keith’s poor posture.  “You’re the one who ran into _me_.”

 

Their TA’s voice broke in through their conversation, just as Keith was turning towards him with his mouth open, probably about to tear him a new one.  “And that’s why it’s crucial today that you work with your lab partners.”

 

Lance pasted a smirk onto his face.  “Looks like it’s you and me, Keith.”  

 

Something curious crossed over Keith’s face, and Lance felt his heart fall out of his chest.  He’d just used Keith’s name.  He wasn’t supposed to know Keith’s name.  Oh my God, he’d just outed himself, right here, in the middle of Biology….

 

But then the expression was gone, replaced with irritated boredom.  “Can’t wait.”

 

Lance leaned down to unzip his backpack and pull out his lab manual, hoping that would offer some suggestion for what they were supposed to be doing today.  The other groups were already moving about, fiddling with items at their lab stations.  Lance didn’t have the slightest idea what he was supposed to use the cotton swabs for.

 

“So, um… what are we doing again?” he asked, feeling like an idiot for the second or maybe third time that morning.  He was smart, he really was.  He just wasn’t good at showing it sometimes.  

 

Keith, who’d been in the middle of tugging his dripping wet hoodie over his head when Lance asked, sighed and dropped the thing on the floor with a gross sounding ‘splat.’  He asked, “Are you always like this?”  

 

Unfortunately, at least today, that answer was yes.  

  
  


…

 

 **CornyBeef:** **Have you eaten today?**

 

 **ummmmm** **:Cherrybob-omb**

 

 **CornyBeef:** **…**

 

 **:)** **:Cherrybob-omb**

 

 **CornyBeef:** **be there in 10**

 **CornyBeef:** **cash me ousside**

 

 **Oh my god** **:Cherrybob-omb**

 

 **CornyBeef:** **howboutdah**

  


**…**

  


It was ten minutes into the car ride across the city that Shiro finally wrinkled his nose up and frowned, casting a sideways look at Keith and saying, “Dude, you _reek_.”

 

Keith groaned.  He slouched down in his seat as far as he could, knees bumping the glove box and seat belt trying to strangle him.  “I know,” he said, voice edging close to a whine, because he’d been friends with Shiro for long enough to act kind of ridiculous around him.  

 

“Like I’m used to you smelling like a Starbucks by now, but this is a new level.”

 

“Some jackass in my bio lab this morning spilled coffee all over me,” Keith grumbled, sitting up properly after Shiro cast him a _third_ anxious look.  Shiro was very conscientious about car safety.  Keith tried not to push it.  

 

“Isn’t your lab at, like, eight a.m.?” Shiro asked, eyes focused entirely on the road again.  

 

Keith scowled darkly.  “Yes.”

 

There was a beat of silence, and then Shiro burst out laughing.  Keith turned his scowl towards him.  “It’s _not funny_ !” he demanded.  “I’ve had to deal with this _all day_.  It just dried like half an hour ago.”

 

“Why didn’t you just go change?” Shiro asked, doing a poor job of concealing the laughter that was edging into his voice.  

 

“Well I was going to, but someone wanted to go get food,” Keith replied.  Shiro glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow.

 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked.  “You don’t want me to buy you dinner today?  That’s fine.  You can wait in the car.”

 

Keith’s stomach grumbled, and his scowl melted off as he glanced between his own stomach and Shiro.  “I’ll be good.”

 

Shiro grinned.  “Liar.”

 

“Well,” Keith laughed, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest.  “Yeah.  Where are we going anyways?” Anything was good with him, since Shiro was paying.  Keith only got so much money from his job at the campus coffee shop, because he was a student and they’d only let him work ten hours a week.  It was a dumb system, in his opinion.  How was he supposed to save up any money if he was hardly ever had any hours?  

 

The school probably didn’t plan for people in his situation, he figured.  They probably relied on their workers already having savings accounts from their childhoods.  

 

Oh well.

 

They rolled to a stop at a red light and Shiro cast Keith an amused expression. “McMullen’s,” he said.  Keith’s mouth dropped open.  “You seriously forgot?  We do this _every month_.”

 

“Oh my God, it’s Wednesday?” Keith asked.  “I thought it was Thursday.  Fuck.”

 

“Please tell me you went to the right classes.”

 

“Well yeah, but-”

 

“Have you been sleeping enough?”

 

Keith let out a laugh and dropped his head in his hands.  “Oh my God, but I’m so gross.  I can’t go in public like this,” he complained.

 

“But you can hang out with my like this?”

 

Keith glared at him.  “You don’t count.”

 

“Wow thanks.”

 

Keith just continued to glare at him, probably pouting more than anything, but this was _bad_ , okay?  Most of the time he was trying to overcompensate anyways.  Being one of the youngest people in their munch group lead to inferiority issues that Keith wasn’t used to dealing with.  It didn’t help that he was primarily dependent on Shiro for rides and wasn’t old enough to drink beer with everyone else.  

 

It wasn’t something he let himself think about too often, but this.  This was just the icing on the cake.  Show up with coffee stains and a pungent odor on top of everything.  Great, Keith.  Yeah.  Sexy as hell.

 

“We’ll stop at my place first,” Shiro offered.  “I did laundry like three days ago.”

 

“Your stuff is way too big on me,” Keith said, secretly grateful, but all too aware of how ridiculous he was going to look.  

 

“After Sunday I doubt anyone is going to question you wearing my clothes, bud.”  Shiro had a point there.  

 

Being in the BDSM community had a way of pushing you out of your shell whether you liked it or not.  As Allura had explained to (lectured) him countless times, the most important part of doing what they did was being honest.  She’d told him once, “It’s good to practice saying what’s on your mind when it doesn’t matter, that way you can say it when it does.”  Keith hadn’t thought he would have a problem with that.  He’d always had a quick temper, and with the childhood he’d had, he thought he was well past giving a shit what anyone thought about him.

 

He’d been wrong.  There was a big difference between standing up for yourself and stating what kinds of weird shit you wanted in sex, and there was an even bigger difference between that and doing those things in front of other people. At the few play parties he’d been to before, where he’d played twice with Shiro and once with Allura, he’d been quite adamant about leaving most of his clothes _on_ , thank you.  

 

After the show they’d put on at Altea last Sunday, though, Keith wasn’t sure he could find it in him to care anymore.  

 

“Okay,” he finally said.  “Thank you.”

  


…

  


It was Sunday, and Keith was at Altea.  Again.

 

Through some sort of scheduling error, TNG had Altea booked two weeks in a row.  Allura asked him if he wanted to demo again, but he’d said no.  There were still bruises clinging onto him from last week, faded and near the end of healing, but still showing up on his pale complexion.  They were painless at this point, but he didn’t want to push it.  Better safe than sorry.

 

Besides, demo-ing had been fun, but he hadn’t gone into headspace with that many eyes on him.  It was harder to take, that way.  Not as satisfying.  Sure, he’d do it again, but… not yet.  He’d rather put the attention on someone else.

 

When he saw Thace, one of the board members for the leather group, laying out the tools for a fire cupping scene, he almost regretted his decision.  Almost.

 

TNG stood for The Next Generation, which Shiro said was a Star Trek joke, but it might have just been a happy coincidence.  The group was for people ages 18 to 35, and it was mostly just a way to get munches together, so they could hang out and talk about things.  Sometimes they talked about kinky shit, but mostly they talked about nerd stuff.  Like Star Trek.

 

It was only one of the groups that existed in the city, and it was one of the most casual.  There was the North munches, which took place across town, and were all twenty-one and up events. He’d gone to one, once, but the bartender asked for his ID and he wasn’t good enough at lying to get away with it.  

 

There was also the Leather group, which was all ages but primarily older people as well.  They took in people closer to Keith’s age sometimes as house boys and girls, but their whole thing was protocol and knowing your place and obedience, three things Keith was not very keen to.  

 

The rope group was fun, but not fun enough to waste him time at.  There was only so much social interaction he could take, honestly, so he bid his time primarily with TNG.  

 

People from other groups showed up for the Altea events, though.  Technically the rule was that you had to come with someone in the age limit if you were over thirty-five (anyone under eighteen was not allowed, no exceptions), but that rule was more of a suggestion than something they actually enforced.

 

For example, Thace was closer to fifty than thirty-five, but they needed someone for the demo, and he was experienced enough that they reached out to him first.  

 

He was kind of a monster of a human being, just from that fact that he was huge.  He was one of the tallest men Keith had ever seen, over 6’6” and hulking.  He wore leather boots that were bigger than Keith’s head everywhere he went, and the Leather vest he wore would probably fit Keith like a dress.  

 

He’d never played with Thace, since he didn’t know him that well and they didn’t really run in the same circles, but the thought was there.  More in fantasy than practice.  The dom was terrifying.

 

“Someone’s jealous,” Allura crooned in his ear, and Keith shrugged, not bothering to tear his eyes away from the stage.  

 

“We doing a fireplay class anytime soon?” he asked.  

 

She hummed quietly.  “We could… I’ll talk to Thace, see if him or anyone else in Leather would be willing to lead it.  I’ve done it before, but….”

 

“Yeah, I get you.”

 

“We’d need an expert.”

 

Allura reached out a hand and hesitated above his arm, weighting for Keith’s nod before plucking at the fabric with her fingertips.  “This isn’t yours,” she noticed.  Keith nodded again.  

 

“Shiro’s.  I was going to give it back, but I need to do laundry.”  She laughed, and he grinned.  He fiddled with the abundance of fabric at the hem of the t-shirt.  It fell a good ways down his thighs, covering his ass entirely.  He really had to stop wearing Shiro’s clothes to events.  People would start to assume things.

 

This was the third time now.  Once at Altea last Sunday, when he hadn’t thought through the problem that would be pulling on skin tight jeans after an impact scene.  Shiro had planned ahead, though, even go as far as assuming that _Keith_ wouldn’t plan ahead, and had brought loose clothing for him to change into instead.

 

He’d probably never get those sweatpants back.  Keith had no intention of returning them.

 

The second time had been Wednesday, after the coffee fiasco, and that was the same shirt he was wearing now.  He really needed to get his shit together and do laundry.  He needed to put money on his card first, though, and find a free two hours.  Easier said than done.

 

“Do t-shirts count as collars?” Shiro teased, coming up behind him.  Allura snickered.  Keith rolled his eyes.  

 

“Oh hardy har-”

 

Keith stopped mid-word, ideas falling dry on his tongue as his eyes froze on someone across the room.  Tan skin, brown hair, long, slender fingers wrapped around a can of soda.  Keith had watched those stupid fingers fidgeting his entire bio lab, three straight hours of not sitting still.  Tapping on the desk, twirling his pen, rolling the microscope dials- constant movement.  He’d been in a bad mood already anyways, but the squirming had nearly driven him crazy.

 

Keith knew it.  He _knew_ he recognized that asshole from somewhere, and here he was, leaning against the wall, eyes on the stage and quiet for the first time since Keith had met him.  

 

“Who’s that?” Shiro asked.  Keith shrugged.  He wasn’t capable of language right then, because he was nearly certain of it.  That guy standing against the wall was the same guy in his bio lab and the same guy from the library.  Had he been there last Sunday?  Had he _recognized Keith_?  Oh fuck.

 

“Don’t know.”

 

“I think I’ve seen him around here before,” Allura said.  “Never at munches though.  He must be shy.”

 

“Or a creep,” Shiro suggested.

 

That kid was _anything_ but shy.  Every time Keith had met him so far he’d been laughing too loud or talking too fast or all over the place, no inhibitions about being overheard or looked at.  Allura was dead wrong.  

 

Keith was shy. Keith didn’t know how to talk to people.  He’d never be that loud in the _library_ with everyone looking at him.  He’d never start a fight with a total stranger after knocking them over and spilling coffee all over them.  He’d also not terrorize said stranger during their entire three hour lab, telling horrible jokes and forgetting their instructions more than once.

 

So yeah, that guy wasn’t shy.  Obnoxious, and an idiot?  Yes.  But not shy.

 

“Oh wait,” Allura said, snapping her fingers and nodding.  “I remember him.  I think that’s the same boy who tried flirting with me last year.”

 

“What, really?” Shiro asked.  “Is he old enough to be here?  He looks pretty young….”

 

“His ID says 1997,” she answered.

 

“Huh.”

 

They watched the boy for another long moment, observing him do nothing but fidget around (shifting weight, tapping his foot, drumming his fingers on his soda can), occasionally taking his eyes off the stage to glance around the crowded room.  It was hard to make out details with the lights as dim as they were, but Keith didn’t have a doubt in his mind that guy was _the guy_.  

 

“He looks lost,” Shiro said.  “I’m going to go talk to him.”  

 

Keith wanted to say no, it wasn’t worth his time, but that would be suspicious.  He didn’t feel like answering the questions that would come from that, or like pointing out to Shiro the guy from the coffee incident.  He’d never hear the end of it, and Shiro would probably just become even more motivated to talk to him.

 

He and Allura watched as Shiro crossed the room to the guy, but the conversation didn’t last long.  The boy’s eyes were huge, and he looked more nervous than ever before ducking his head and heading towards the bathrooms.  So maybe he was shy.  Maybe, but probably not.  Shiro’s expression was puzzled as he made his way back to them.  

 

“Lance,” he said.  “I told him to add me on fetlife, join the TNG group.”

 

“Looks like you scared the wits out of him,” Allura pointed out.  Shiro still looked puzzled as he shrugged.

“Must just be trigger shy.”

  
Trigger shy.  No way in hell.  Keith had a name now, though.  He didn’t know what to do with it, but he’d think of something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case this wasn't clear- "CornyBeef" is Shiro (cause he's beefy as fuck, but also a giant dork), and "Cherrybob-omb" is Keith. Anyone catch the reference? It's not exactly obscure.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'I’m losing my mind and I need you to beat me.'
> 
> 'Well good morning, sunshine,' Shiro said, after a beat of silence. 'So your motivation sounds unhealthy. I’m gonna have to say no.'"

It took Lance an incredible amount of time to wake up the next morning.  As consciousness started to creep in behind his eyelids, he groaned loudly and clutched his blanket tighter, trying to drag himself back down into sleep.  

 

Loud noises kept that from happening.  It took a moment, brain still foggy, to figure out exactly what those noises were.  Finally the answer hit him, and he forced his eyes open.   It was his shitty roommates. 

 

Giving up on the pipe dream of getting more sleep that morning, he rolled over and felt around for his phone.  It was hiding under his pillow, plugged in and overheating.  His fingers wrapped around it, pulling it out to face the light of day.  Just as he was pressing the center button to light the screen up, his phone burst to life, shitty ‘old-fashioned phone’ sound effects assaulting his ears and startling him so badly that he yelped and rolled off the side of his bed on accident.

 

The floor was hard, but Lance didn’t have it in him to sit up quite yet, so he just sprawled out on his back and glared at the ceiling before hitting ‘answer call’ and holding the phone to his ear.  It was gonna be that kind of day today. 

 

Then, as if to emphasize that point further, the voice on the other end of the call was his mother.  

 

Now it wasn’t that Lance didn’t like talking to his mom on the phone.  What kind of heartless person didn’t call their mom?  It was just that he didn’t like talking to his mom on the phone when he’d just woken up, or when it was a surprise, or when he was laying on a pile of unsorted laundry that had been living on the floor of his dorm room for much longer than was acceptable.  Moms had a sixth sense for that kind of thing, and Lance had a semi-irrational fear of deeply disappointing his mother, even if it was just with laundry.

 

As a testament to the Mom Sixth Sense, the first question she asked was if he’d just woken up, the frown in her voice making it apparent that it was probably well past noon.  He had to force down rising panic that swelled from realizing he’d slept through his first class.  “What?” he answered.  “No, of course not.  I’ve been up for hours.” 

 

She asked if he’d been eating well, and he lied, thinking back on the previous night’s dinner, which had just been cookies Hunk had baked in their building’s kitchen.  She asked about classes, and he tried not to feel guilty about not studying as much as he should have, fretting silently over the low B he had in college algebra that would threaten his scholarship if it fell any lower.  

 

She asked if he was remembering to take his medication (“Ugh,  _ Mom _ .”), and he said yes while rolling to his feet and going to do that, before he forgot.  She asked about his friends, and Lance lied and said they were great while they continued their obnoxious screeching from Pidge’s dorm room right next door.

 

Finally,  _ finally _ , he got his mom off the phone and charged through the shared bathroom that connected his and Hunk’s room to Pidge’s.  They were still yelling when he walked in, arguing vehemently in sounds that weren’t even real words and shoving at each other, sitting cross-legged on the floor and apparently in some sort of death match over Super Mario Bros.  They were both leaning in close to the screen of the box TV Pidge had set up under her bed, Wii remotes clutched in hand and faces determined.  

 

“Seriously, guys?” he asked, walking by and throwing himself gracefully onto Pidge’s bed.  

 

Pidge made a growling noise during the split second his legs blocked the TV screen, then shot back, “Nice bed head, princess,” while trying to shove Hunk’s controller away with her foot and smashing buttons.

 

“Fuck off.”  Lance wrapped his arms around her pillow and could have fallen right back asleep if it weren’t for the stupidly loud Super Mario background noise.  

 

“Watch your profanities…” Hunk mumbled, glaring at the screen.  “Shouldn’t swear in front of the children.” 

 

“Hey!” 

 

“You’re right.  Pidge is, like, twelve.”

 

“Fight me, Lance.” 

 

“I don’t fight toddlers.”  Lance chuckled and ducked the shoe that was thrown at his head, then burst into full-bellied laughter when Hunk muttered a joke about ‘la chancla.’  

 

Pidge rolled her eyes and grinned.  “I don’t wanna hear it.  My mom has precision point accuracy with a wooden spoon.  She’s nailed my brother in the backyard through the kitchen window.” 

 

“And you wonder why we never come over for family dinner,” Hunk teased.  Lance’s brain was temporarily invaded with the mental image of that dom from the demo two weeks ago, the one who’d  _ talked to him _ at Altea the night before, twirling a wooden spoon between his fingers and patting his lap.  Those were not thoughts to be having with other people in the room.  He shook his head and filed them away for later, orienting back to the conversation at hand. 

 

“Speaking of which,” he said.  “My mom says hello.” 

 

“Hi mom,” Pidge deadpanned.  

 

Hunk finally looked up from the video game and smiled.  “Dude, your mom is the best.  What’s Mrs. McClain up to these days?” 

 

“Does she know you skipped class this morning?” Pidge added.  Lance glared at her. 

 

“No, and she doesn’t need to.  I overslept.  It happens.” 

 

Hunk raised his eyebrows and looked back to the TV screen.  “Wouldn’t happen if you weren’t out till one a.m…..”

 

“Where  _ were _ you anyways?” Pidge asked, scowling as the TV played the ‘game over’ music, looking up at Lance through the hair falling in her eyes.  He felt his face heat up and hoped he wasn’t blushing. 

 

“Out.” 

 

“Wow,” Pidge said.  “Clever.” 

 

“Whatever, it’s none of your business.  I was just out, okay?”  He sat up and pulled the pillow into his lap, wrapping his arms around it like a teddy bear and resting his cheek against it.  

 

“If you’re seeing Nyma again, I swear to God….” 

 

Lance shot Hunk a look.  “It’s not Nyma.  It’s never going to be Nyma.” 

 

“Good, because she’s dead to me,” Hunk grumbled back. 

 

“I think I saw her making out with some hipster guy in the SU the other day,” Pidge noted.  Then, as if it were the same conversation, added, “I’m switching to single player, Hunk.  Jesus fucking Christ.” 

 

“Language,” Lance teased, grateful for the quick segway away from that conversation- ex-girlfriends and all the other shit Lance was sick of talking about.  He knew Hunk was vengeful about the whole thing, and he appreciated it, he really did, but not talking about it ever again would be  _ excellent _ . 

 

“Jesus fucking Christmas,” Pidge corrected.  Lance sighed and flopped backwards.  His head knocked into the wall and he groaned.

 

“You guys are horrible. I need new friends,” he muttered.  

 

Someone, probably Hunk, reached up and squeezed his knee.  Hunk said, “Love you too, bro.” 

 

Lance, in true meme fashion, clutched at his chest and gasped.  “ _ Bro _ .” 

  
  


…

 

After Altea on Sunday night, Keith had spent some time sleuthing.  He wasn’t going to deny that he was curious.  Lance was obnoxious and a pain in the ass, and if Keith had to deal with this asshole in his biology lab  _ and  _ at kink events, then he was going to learn some more about him, damn it.

 

Lance had added Shiro on fetlife so it wasn’t hard to find him.  Keith spent an embarrassing amount of time haunting his fetlife profile, desolate as it was.  He had three friends- Shiro, someone named bigdaddydom92, and ropebunny666.  Lance’s own name on fet was ‘zip-bi.’  

 

Keith had no idea what ‘zipbee’ was supposed to mean, but it was probably just some weird reference.  Not that it mattered.  Keith looked over the rest of his profile- no posts, no notes, no pictures except for the profile picture, which was someone (maybe Lance) with bright blue eyes wearing a V for Vendetta mask.  The bio had only one sentence which read, “I’m just a boy from Cuba,” and Keith thought that was strange.  Lance didn’t have an accent.   

 

The only other information on his profile was age and orientation -20Bottom- and sexuality -bisexual-.  So Keith didn’t find any devastatingly embarrassing information to use against him, but that was fine.  It was good to know anyways.  Instead of shooting Lance a friend request, because he was  _ not _ friends with him, he bookmarked the profile for a later day and closed his computer.  That was all the sleuthing he needed.  He’d come up with something. 

 

Come Wednesday morning he just decided to go for it.  By some act of God, he arrived early for his lab again, and he was able to take the same seat he had last class while the room started to fill up with zombie-like college students.  

 

Around 7:55 Lance came trudging into the room like his feet were made of lead, not even looking up as he shuffled over and plopped himself down next to Keith.  Keith had been a little worried that Lance would sit somewhere else, not that Keith cared where he sat.  He just wanted the chance to do this.  Lance dropped his head onto the table, and Keith occupied himself with his lab manual as he spoke. 

 

“Good morning, Lance,” he said casually.  

 

“G’mornin’,” Lance mumbled back, seemingly unaffected.  Then his eyes shot open and he picked his head up.  He didn’t look at Keith, but he did side-eye the fuck out of him, probably wondering where Keith knew his name from.  Keith decided to push it one step further.  

 

“It’s zipbee, right?” he asked. 

 

Lance’s initial reaction was underwhelming.  He turned and stared at Keith blankly, as if he’d had spoken a foreign language or something.  Uncomfortable under the attention, Keith flipped through his manual like he was trying to find the right page.  Like he hadn’t been on the correct page just a few seconds ago. 

 

He glanced up at Lance again just in time to see it click.   Lance’s expression changed from confused to mortified, eyes wide and blush spreading over his cheeks and nose and the tips of his ears.  He recovered quickly, though, glancing down at his own book. 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, obviously fully aware of what Keith was talking about. 

 

“What even  _ is _ a zipbee?” Keith wondered aloud.  It was funny that Lance was so embarrassed, since it’s not like anyone around them would have a clue what they were talking about anyway.  Their conversation didn’t really give off ‘fetish website username’ vibes, besides the fact that Lance was blushing worse and worse by the second and looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. 

 

“Zipbee,” Keith mused, trying to get some kind of reaction out of Lance and pushing away the fact that he sounded like an idiot.  He  _ knew _ that was Lance’s fetlife profile.  The listed city was Las Vegas, Nevada, and everything else matched.  “Zipwasp,” he said.  “Zipfly.  Fastbee….” 

 

“You’re saying it wrong,” Lance muttered through clenched teeth, glaring at him through the corner of his eye.  “It’s zip- _ bye. _  Like zip-tie and bisexual, okay?”

 

That was… actually kind of clever.  “Oh,” Keith said.  “You know zipties aren’t very safe for-” Lance’s hand flew out like lightning and clapped over Keith’s mouth.  Keith pulled back, but Lance wasn’t relenting.  

 

He met Keith’s glare and said, “No way.  Not here, not now.” 

 

When Lance finally pulled back into his own personal space, Keith wiped the back of his hand over his mouth.  “Didn’t think you’d be all shy about it.”

 

“Not all of us flaunt it on stage,” Lance muttered.

 

“Jealous?” 

 

Their conversation was cut off by the TA greeting the class, announcing that their first test went better than she expected as she started passing them back.  Keith waited patiently for his own, while Lance immediately started drumming his fingers on the table and squirming in his seat.  Keith had studied for this thing all weekend.  There had been a few anatomy things he didn’t know, but it had gone fine.  He had this in the bag. 

 

He got his scantron back and flipped it over, and his stomach plummeted.  

 

Next to him, Lance cheered and threw his hands in the air.  “Thank  _ God _ !” he yelled.  “This is the best day ever.”  He glanced at Keith and smirked.  “I knew I would rock that.  How did  _ you _ do?” 

 

Keith folded his own scantron in half and shoved it into his backpack.  “Fine.” 

 

“Ha!” Lance beamed at him.  “Liar.” 

 

“Fuck you.” 

 

“Jealous?” Lance shot back, looking far too proud of himself.  Keith didn’t offer a response, but that didn’t stop him.  “Y’know we can’t be good at everything.  Some of us are just naturally talented, I guess.  What’d you get, like, a seventy?”  

 

Once again, Keith refused to answer.  He didn’t tell Lance that his grade was actually lower than a seventy, or that he  _ was _ naturally talented at this stuff.  At least, he was supposed to be.  He was pre-med for crying out loud, and he’d always been good at school.  55%.  He’d never gotten a grade that low in his life. 

 

“We have three tests in this class,” the TA said.  “So if you didn’t do well on this one, you’ll really want to step it up next time.” 

 

Step it up?  Step it up  _ how _ ?  He’d studied for  _ days _ , and he’d  _ failed _ , and now a third of his grade was a 55%.  He couldn’t fail a class.  They’d take his scholarship, and then what would he do?  Drop out.  Work a minimum wage job for the rest of his life.  Have nothing going for him and prove everyone who said he wouldn’t amount to anything  _ right _ .  

 

“Y’know I could tutor you,” Lance teased, arrogant tone to his voice raking against Keith’s nerves as he smirked, really rubbing it in.  Keith had been beaten by an idiot.  He couldn’t do this.  Not today.

 

He remained absolutely silent for the rest of the class, and as soon as his work was done and he had the chance to leave, he was bolting out the door like he was running from a fire.   He was the first one out, and the sidewalk was empty.

 

Still freaking out about his grade, he took a second to pace angrily, trying to figure out what to do with himself, before pulling out his phone and calling Shiro.  He stalked away from the lab, down the walkway and back towards the center of campus, chewing on a hangnail as he waited for the call to go through.

 

It rang three times before there was an answer, and Keith cut Shiro’s ‘hello’ off with, “I’m losing my mind and I need you to beat me.” 

 

“Well good morning, sunshine,” Shiro said, after a beat of silence.  “So your motivation sounds unhealthy.  I’m gonna have to say no.” 

 

Keith whined and kicked a rock off down the sidewalk.  “Shiro _ oo _ ….” 

 

“Do we need to have the safety lecture?” 

 

Keith let out a long weathered sigh and muttered, “No.” 

 

“Good.” 

 

“Are you in your office?” 

 

“Yeah, but class starts in an hour.”  

 

Keith whined again, already setting course for Shiro’s office, mixed in with the psych labs near the dining commons.  “Ditch,” he said.

 

“Keith, I teach the class.  I can’t just skip.  Besides, we’re doing drugs today.” 

 

Keith rolled his eyes.  “You just love saying that, don’t you?” 

 

“Yep.  Now, get your ass over here and tell me what’s the matter with you.  You know, like a  _ normal _ person.” 

 

Keith saw his opportunity and took it.  “Yes, sir.” 

 

“Don’t.” 

 

Shiro sounded mildly exasperated, and it cheered Keith up just a little bit.  “Make me,” he replied, purposefully putting a flirty tone into his voice.  He heard Shiro sigh through the phone.  

 

“You’re such a brat.  I’m hanging up.” 

 

“Okay.  I’m coming.” 

 

“That’s what she said,” Shiro said, and Keith had to press his lips together to hold back a laugh.  He couldn’t let Shiro know he was funny, or else he’d never stop, and Keith would actually have to find new friends to hang out with.  He hung up the phone and slipped it into his back pocket, gripped his backpack straps tighter, and tried not to lose his mind as he made his way across campus.  

  
  


…

  
  


It was eight p.m. and Keith was dead inside.  He’d stayed up late to study, woken up early to study, and now here he was at work, not studying, bored to death, and losing his mind.  Maybe he was going overboard.  Shiro said he was going overboard, but last semester Shiro had stayed up for three days straight the week before he had to defend his thesis, and then fallen asleep on Keith’s dorm room floor because he was too delirious to drive home safely.  Keith didn’t have to listen to him. 

 

He would have listened to him now, though.  Not about  _ that, _ but about probably anything else.  He could rant on and on, read his stupid thesis paper word for word, literally talk about  _ anything _ just to keep Keith from falling asleep on his feet.  He’d already had enough coffee that he was twitching; anymore would kill him, and Keith didn’t want to die so much as he wanted to just not be alive. 

 

There was a difference, he just wasn’t sure what it was. 

 

They hadn’t had a customer in almost forty-five minutes.  Apparently no one else was as conscious about their grades as Keith was right then, because if they were the place would be packed and everyone would be studying like mad men.  Their only customer currently was some kid sitting in the corner with their hood up, playing a game on their computer.  They hadn’t moved in three hours.

 

Keith was working with headphone guy, so named because of the earbuds he had in whenever he could get away with it.  Headphone guy was entertaining himself and wasn’t keen to conversation, which Keith normally appreciated, but not right now.  Right now Keith would kill for anyone to talk to.  Literally anyone. 

 

The bell on the door chimed and Keith glanced up.  A familiar set of brown hair, tan skin, and long ass legs strolled in the door, eyes on his cellphone, so he didn’t see Keith scowling.  Oh, but he  _ was _ scowling, because apparently the universe had a sense of humor.  

 

Keith would kill for anyone to talk to.  Anyone except  _ Lance _ . 

 

Lance turned his phone screen off as he approached the counter, and Keith ducked his head down, hoping the visor would cover his face and his name tag wouldn’t give him away as he muttered, “Welcome to Coffee Bean.  What can I get you?” 

 

“Oh hey!” Lance said, too loud and excited.  Keith needed his first social interaction of the hour to be… gentler.  His headspace was all kinds of weird right now.  “I didn’t know you worked here.”

 

“Because we know each other so well,” Keith replied, no inflection in his voice.  He gave up on hiding and looked at Lance, just to see him staring back with a weird expression on his face. 

 

“What?” he asked. 

 

Lance blinked a few times.  “You have a ponytail,” he said.  Keith automatically reached up to touch the ends of his hair self-consciously.  It had been a nightmare when he’d woken up, and he figured why bother messing with it for  _ work _ . 

 

“Um,” he said.  “Yeah.” 

 

“Cool,” Lance said.  Keith raised an eyebrow.  He honestly had no idea how to respond to that.  He could ask his order again, or-

 

“So you looked pretty upset the other day,” Lance said, leaning his hip against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.  Keith stared back blankly.  He didn’t owe this asshole an explanation.  “Look, if you’re having a hard time, I was serious about tutoring you.” 

 

“I don’t need your help,” Keith replied, and Lance raised both his eyebrows. 

 

“Because you’re doing  _ so well _ .”  Lance used the same tone of voice Keith had just moments before, mocking him, and Keith clenched his teeth.  “Besides, we’re lab partners.  Can’t have you dragging the team down.” 

 

“We’re not a  _ team _ ,” Keith said.  

 

“We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other anyways.”  

 

Keith sighed loudly, not giving a shit about ‘being polite to the customer,’ because the customer was Lance and it wasn’t like they were ever polite to each other.  They were barely civil, and they’d only spoken a few times.  

 

“You’re not going to drop this, are you?” Keith asked. 

 

“Not unless you want me to.” 

 

That was such a weird thing to say.  Of course Keith wanted him to.  He’d already turned him down twice (or once, technically the first time he hadn’t said anything), but then again….  The tutoring center was useless, partly because the people working there were more than content to stay behind their desks and play on their phones instead of actually tutoring, and partly because Keith hated talking to strangers and couldn’t find it in him to go demand they actually explain this shit to him, because that would mean admitting that he couldn’t do it himself. 

 

He didn’t even know what he didn’t understand.  Maybe going through the course work with someone else would be helpful.  Maybe this wasn’t the worst idea in the world.  Maybe… 

 

Ah, fuck it.

 

“Fine,” he said, rubbing his hand over his face.  “Okay, fine.  Tutoring would be great.” 

 

Lance beamed up at him and held his hand out, which Keith frowned at for a second before hesitantly bumping his fist against Lance’s own.  “It’ll be great.  Let me get your number?” 

 

Keith shrugged and pulled a Sharpie out of his apron.  “I’ll just write it on your coffee,” he said.  “Which you still haven’t ordered.” 

 

Lance’s face fell.  “Oh, right.”  He tilted his head to the side and looked up at the menu, humming quietly under his breath and taking way too long.  Their menu wasn’t that big, Lance, what the hell.  Keith tapped his pen against the counter impatiently, and eventually Lance smiled. 

 

“Okay, got it.  Ice smoothie mocha thing.” 

 

Keith leveled him with a look.  “Ice blend?” 

 

“Yeah, that.  Large.”  Keith wasn’t sure Lance needed that much sugar, but the customer was always right, so he rang up the order and swiped Lance’s meal card through their machine.  “Don’t forget the number,” Lance reminded, and Keith scribbled it down on the plastic cup, being careful with his handwriting and double checking it, just in case.  

 

“Okay,” he said.  “Give me a minute.” 

 

Rather than rouse headphone guy, who apparently hadn’t even noticed they had a customer, Keith made Lance’s drink himself.  It gave him something to do, which he was grateful for.  The noise of the blender made his head hurt, and he’d never found anything fun in mixing together Coffee Bean’s carefully measured concoctions, but at least he wasn’t standing still anymore.

  
“I’ll text you!” Lance said, grabbing the drink and shooting Keith some finger guns as he trotted through the doors to the library.  Keith watched him go, blinking slowly, and wondered what he’d just gotten himself into.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Keith managed to explain between giggles. 'Every time we see each other, I’m getting hurt,' he managed, then erupted in laughter again. His laughter was pretty, if not terribly unsettling, but he had a point. 
> 
> 'Alright, giggles, calm down.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things I should have done today: written the research paper that's due Friday.
> 
> Things I did today: this.

The next time Lance ran into Keith, “Pump It” by the Black Eyed Peas was playing, Lance was throwing himself into traffic, and Keith was struggling to his feet in the middle of the road. 

 

Maybe he should explain.

 

It’d been a week and a half since they’d had the tutoring conversation.  Lance had texted Keith about meeting up, but Keith had a talent for turning him down, constantly claiming that he was busy with school or work or something else.  On Friday he’d claimed he was off campus, and Lance had caught him in the library half an hour later, hanging out in a cubby on the fourth floor and pouring himself into a textbook. 

 

Lance hadn’t bothered him, even though he wanted to, and he hadn’t cornered him at Coffee Bean either, because he could take a hint, alright?  He knew when someone didn’t want to hang out with him, and he wasn’t going to chase after an asshole who was going out of his way to avoid him. 

 

So fine, Keith could go to hell and fail biology all by himself if he wanted to.  The last social interaction they’d had was their biology lab on Wednesday, where Keith had carefully shrugged off the ‘when should we get together and study’ conversation and accidentally cut his hand open with a scalpel.  

 

This boy was a mess, honestly.  And now he’d just been hit by a car.

 

He didn’t get hit very hard, which was a relief,  because then he might have possibly died, and Lance had no idea how to deal with  _ that _ .  This one though.  This he could handle. 

 

He’d been standing on the curb several feet behind Keith, panicking slightly for two reasons.  One, because Keith might see him and  _ that _ would be awkward, and two, because he was late for work.  Again (always).  The light had turned from the orange hand to the white walking symbol, and Keith had been the first person off the curb, apparently in a hurry.  Lance didn’t see the car until it was too late, and apparently neither did Keith, because it knocked him clean off his feet and sent him tumbling into the road.  He’d dropped his iPod, and the headphones had come loose, so now the Black Eyed Peas were providing the weirdest soundtrack ever for this stupid situation.

 

Unfortunately, they were the only two pedestrians at the crosswalk, so Lance had no choice but to deal with it.  

 

He didn’t see how Keith landed, too busy running in front of the car and waving his arms and yelling for it to stop.  It was already stopped, and it turned it’s blinker on.  Free from his duties as traffic controller, Lance turned to face his classmate.  

 

He rushed over, worried about a potential concussion or broken limb (the driver was still working on getting out of their car.  It was a little old lady.  Fucking perfect).  Keith looked fine, if not battered to hell, and Lance offered his hand down to help him up.  Keith squinted up at him, hair falling in front of his face like a curtain, abrasion making his cheek bloody.  He reached up, pushed his hair out of the way, and then burst out laughing. 

 

Okay, definitely a concussion then. 

 

“C’mon, dumb ass, let’s get you out of the road,” Lance said, taking Keith by the forearm and hauling him to his feet.  Keith’s palms were raw and dirty, and Lance figured it would be best for both of them to avoid contact there.  Keith winced once he was on his feet, hand going to his hip, sucking in a breath harshly through his teeth before dissolving once again into laughter.  Lance made quick work of picking his fallen bag off the ground and throwing it over his shoulder, then getting his other shoulder under Keith’s arm and helping him limp to the sidewalk.  

 

Keith didn’t stop laughing the entire time. 

 

“What the hell, man?” Lance asked him, because this situation wasn’t nearly as funny as Keith seemed to think it was.  But Keith’s eyes were sparkling and his breath was coming out in erratic laughter and his cheeks were both shining with a blush.  Lance had to look away. 

 

Keith managed to explain between giggles.  “Every time we see each other, I’m getting hurt,” he managed, then erupted in laughter again.  His laughter was pretty, if not terribly unsettling, but he had a point.  Not  _ every _ time they ran into each other, but more often than not, it seemed. 

 

Keith, apparently, had the worst luck in the entire world.  And here Lance thought  _ he _ was clumsy.  Someone finally got him beat. 

 

“Alright, giggles.  Calm down,” he said, pulling Keith down to sit on the curb of the sidewalk, because maybe he shouldn’t be standing right then.  He could fall over and crack his head open, and  _ then _ what would Lance do?  

 

He managed to calm down, at least, choking back snickers as the old woman who’d almost run him over came shuffling over to the sidewalk.  Her car was still parked halfway through its turn, and the shitty Las Vegas drivers who were inconvenienced by it were blaring their horns in complaint.  

 

“Oh dear,” the old woman said.  “Oh dear, young man, are you alright?  I didn’t even see you there.”  

 

If it was anyone else, anyone who didn’t remind Lance of his abuela back home, he would have gone off on them about how could they not have  _ seen _ him, the crosswalk light was on!  As it was, Lance couldn’t yell at old women.  He just couldn’t.  Maybe Keith could- if anyone was heartless enough to yell at someone’s granny it was Keith.  Lance really hoped he didn’t.  Even if he was mad at the guy, he didn’t want to witness that.

 

Keith shoved himself up to his feet, swaying once he was upright and gripping onto Lance for balance.  Lance tried not to focus on it.  “I’m fine,” he said, voice not unkind.  “It’s alright.  It’s not the first time.” 

 

‘ _ It’s not the first time. _ ’ Okay, Lance needed answers, because what the  _ fuck? _

 

“Do you need to go to the hospital?  I can drive you.  Oh dear, we should exchange insurance information.” 

 

Keith shook his head and offered the woman a smile, which would have been sweet if there wasn’t blood on his face.  The Black Eyed Peas were still playing in the background, the album having switched from ‘Pump It’ to ‘Imma Be,’ which also worked to make the situation even less sweet.  Not to mention the car accident…. 

 

Yeah, no.  This whole thing sucked ass.

 

Lance thought about going to get the device out of the middle of the road, but Keith hanging off of him kept him in place.  He wondered briefly how he’d gotten wrapped up in this weird ass situation, or why he felt so warm where Keith’s hand was curled around his bicep.

 

“Don’t worry about it, really,” Keith told the old woman.  “Are you alright?  Did your airbags go off?” 

 

So Keith was apparently the weirdest person in the universe.  Not only had he just gotten hit by a car, which was pretty weird, he’d responded by laughing, and now he was being nicer than would ever be expected of him to the person who’d run him over.  

 

“I just feel so bad…” the woman said.  Keith, for some convoluted reason, looked  _ guilty _ .  Lance decided it might be time to jump in. 

 

“Don’t worry, ma’am.  I’ll take care of him,” he said.  “We’ll get him patched up.  He’s fine.” 

 

Keith turned his head to look at Lance, confusion all over his face.  For a second Lance thought he was going to fight him on it, insist he could take care of himself and go storming off as he usually did.  Instead he just grinned and looked back at his assailant.   

 

“Let’s get you back to your car before the drivers riot,” Lance said, carefully peeling Keith off of him and walking the old woman back around the front of her car to the driver’s side door.  He stood between her and the traffic, which had started driving around the obstacle instead of waiting, and thought about how funny it would be if someone hit  _ him _ too.  It would be golden, really.  She got back into her car, and Lance shut the door for her.  Before he could walk away, she rolled her window down and passed a scribbled phone number on a piece of scratch paper through the window.  

 

“Tell him I’ll make it up to him,” she said.  Lance tucked the paper into his front pocket and nodded.  

 

“Of course.” 

 

If Lance could have found a gap between the flowing traffic, he would have gone and grabbed Keith’s iPod for him.  ‘Imma Be’ was still playing, warbled under the noise of traffic. Before he got the chance, a four door pickup truck came barreling around the corner.  It’s front tire ran directly over the iPod, cutting the music off with a ‘crack!’ 

 

Well, that solved that then.  Lance went around the front of the car, back to where Keith was waiting on the sidewalk, picking gravel out of his hand and frowning.  

 

“Your iPod’s dead,” he called as he approached.  Keith looked up at him and shrugged. 

 

“Figures.” 

 

“How you doing?” 

 

Keith looked down at himself and shrugged.  “I’ve been through worse.”

 

Lance took the opportunity to really look Keith over for the first time.  He was wearing basketball shorts and a black t-shirt, which was now torn at the shoulder where Keith was bleeding.  It looked like that took the worst of the impact.  He was leaning to the right, keeping the weight off of his left leg.  Maybe it hurt, maybe he was just standing funny.  His face was still bleeding, the abrasion small but bleeding heavily.  Head wounds were like that.  The side of his leg was scraped up too, and his left thumb had a bandaid on it, battle wounds from their biology lab a week earlier.  He was sweaty and sunburnt on his arms and the bridge of his nose.  Lance himself was sweating through his own shirt, overheated under the brutal September sun. Keith reached up gingerly and pushed the hair off the back of his neck, gathering it up and tying it back in a ponytail.  Highly inappropriate thoughts flooded Lance’s mind for reasons he didn’t understand, and he had to look down at his shoes and cough.

 

This time it was Lance’s turn to go crazy.  He started giggling.  It was nervous laughter, probably, but this still wasn’t the time for it.

 

He cleared his throat and adjusted Keith’s bag on his shoulder, the weight of both backpacks threatening to pull him down.  “Okay,” he said.  “Let’s go.” 

 

The crosswalk light came on again, and Lance checked both ways, glaring at a car with it’s blinker on, before stepping into the road.  Keith frowned but stumbled after him. 

 

“Let’s go?” he asked.  “Go where?” 

 

“You’re hurt.  I’m not leaving you here.  My work is like a block away.  We can clean you up,” Lance said.  Coran was probably mad that Lance was late to work again, but at least this time he had an excuse.  Bringing a bloody Keith in with him would only give his excuse some validity, but that wasn’t the only reason he was doing this.  It wouldn’t be right to just leave him alone.  What would his mother say?

 

“I can take care of myself, you know,” Keith said, fixing Lance with a glare and wincing as he took a step.  Lance slowed his pace and frowned back, not meanly.  He was going for sympathetic. 

 

“Yeah, I know,” he said.  “But you don’t  _ have _ to.”

 

Keith studied Lance for a long time as he followed him down the sidewalk, but he still followed him, so Lance counted it as a win.  He broke the silence after a few seconds by saying, “I can carry my own bag.” 

 

“Nah, I got it,” Lance replied, adjusting his own where it threatened to fall off his shoulder.  “I can’t believe you just got run over.” 

 

Keith grinned and shrugged, going to stick his hands in his pockets, then wincing and pulling them away.  “It’s my own fault,” he said.  “I should have watched where I was going, and I was running, so.” 

 

“Why the hell were you  _ running _ ?” Lance asked.  He already had sweat pouring down his face.  If he ran in this heat, he might die. 

 

Keith said, “Faster than walking,” and Lance just stared at him. 

 

“That’s weird, bro.” 

 

“Whatever.” 

 

**…**

  
  


It turned out Lance worked at a secondhand clothes store.  Keith had never seen the place before, never paid that much attention, but it wasn’t far from campus.  It really was only a block from where Keith had gotten hit, just like Lance said.

 

The whole situation was honestly borderline hilarious.  It definitely wasn’t the worst thing that happened to him, and it wasn’t that big of a surprise.  He’d almost gotten hit by reckless drivers on more than one occasion.  People just didn’t bother to look before flying around right hand turns, and Keith probably didn’t pay enough attention crossing the street. This was the first time someone had actually hit him, though the old lady who did it looked so upset that Keith couldn’t even be mad. 

 

Plus Lance had been there to see it happen, which was just a lucky fucking coincidence.  The powers that be were conspiring to embarrass Keith, apparently.  Lance probably thought Keith was the biggest loser in the entire fucking world. 

 

He couldn’t figure out what Lance’s deal was, honestly.  One moment he was being friendly, joking around or being nice, helping Keith out of the road or offering to tutor him.  The next he was being a giant fuckin’ baby, getting offended by the slightest thing, or yelling like a crazy person.  He was a headache in human skin.  That was the easiest way to put it. 

 

As proof to this, when Lance ushered Keith through the door of a strip mall shop, mechanical bell dinging above them, he threw his head back and hollered, “Coran!” 

 

Keith’s head pounded.  He groaned and closed his eyes.

 

“You’re late!” a heavily accented voice called from somewhere deep within the store.  Keith couldn’t tell where it was coming from, hidden by the maze of clothing racks and shelves and piles of clothes.  If there was an order to the chaos before them, Keith couldn’t see it.  “You’re staying the full five hours, and I don’t want to hear any excuses!” The voice traveled through the shop as the owner moved around.  

 

Lance shot Keith a bemused grin and put his hand around Keith’s arm, pulling him further into the store.  

 

“About that...” he said.  They stopped in front of a tall counter, and a second later someone with a full head of ginger hair popped up from behind it.  

 

The guy -probably Coran- stared at Keith from a long moment before sighing.  

 

“We kind of need the first aid kit,” Lance said, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning, face just shining with boyish mischief, and Keith wondered if that expression got him out of a lot of trouble when he was a kid.  It probably got him out of a lot of trouble  _ now _ .  

 

Coran nodded, walking around the counter and heading deeper into the store.  Lance pulled Keith along after him.  “It looks like you do.  What did you do, boy?  Get yourself run over?” 

 

Keith grimaced. “Almost….” 

 

Coran shook his head in an almost exasperated way and held his arm out, motioning towards the back of the store.  “Lance will show you to the backroom.  I’m going to lock the front door for now.  Don’t want anyone getting smart ideas and running off with the merchandise.” 

 

Lance met Keith’s eyes and made a face, apparently sharing some kind of private joke that Keith wasn’t in on. He just frowned back, and Lance sighed loudly and dragged him along.  “Come on, gimpy.” 

 

“You’re just full of nicknames today, huh?” Keith asked.  Lance shot him a grin, bad mood apparently gone.  See?  Human headache.  

 

“One of my many talents,” he declared.  

 

Keith raised an eyebrow.  “Didn’t know ‘two’ counted as ‘many,’ but okay.” 

 

Lance gasped loudly, once again full of dramatics, and smacked a hand against his own chest.  “Ex _ cuse you _ ,” he said.  “I’ll have you know I’m  _ full _ of good ideas.” 

 

“Full of something,” Keith murmured, mouth curving up in a smirk.  Lance just glared at him, a grin decorating his face as well, like he just couldn’t manage to force it down.  

 

“Yeah, well, smarty-pants, you can clean yourself up then.”  Despite saying this, Lance lead Keith into the restroom and pulled out a first aid kit from under the sink.  He popped it open and rutted around in it, looking for… something.  Keith didn’t know what.  They probably didn’t have bandaids big enough to deal with this.  Keith was kind of a mess. 

 

It took a lot of careful movements to get his shirt over his head, since the skin of his shoulder screamed at him whenever he moved it too much.  His hands were still on fire, throbbing gently.  His face hurt like a mother fucker, but it wasn’t as bad as the scratch on his leg.  Along with all of that, his hip was throbbing hard and steady.  After dropping his ruined t-shirt off to the side, he peeled down the waistband of his gym shorts to look over the damage, and yep.  There was a nasty looking bruise covering his entire hip where the car had knocked into him.  

 

Fan-freaking-tastic.

 

He pressed the tips of his finger into it, watching the skin turn white under the pressure, and felt his stomach flip over happily.  Okay, no.  Enough of that, then.  This was really not the time. 

 

The noise of a full bottle of hydrogen peroxide falling to the floor startled Keith into looking up.  Lance was standing there, one hand holding paper towel, the other curled around thin air, mouth slightly ajar and cheeks pink.  Keith looked back down, averting his eyes as he tugged his shorts back into place, then crouched down painfully and picked up the bottle. 

 

“Thanks,” he said.  

 

Lance stepped forward.  “Let me help.”  Even without inflection at the end of the sentence, Keith knew it was a question.  He was familiar with ‘permission to touch you’ type statements.  He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded, keeping his eyes down as Lance took a step closer.  

 

“Here,” he said, putting down the seat of the toilet and clearing off the back of it.  “Sit up there.  You probably shouldn’t be standing up right now.” 

 

“I’m seriously fine,” Keith insisted,  _ again _ , but he did as he was told, sitting up on the back of the toilet and setting his feet on the seat.  He leaned his elbows down on his knees and was stupidly conscious of the way his stomach folded, the small amount of fat that was there making itself known.  He needed to work out more.  Fuck.  

 

If Lance noticed, he didn’t say anything.  He sidled up to Keith’s side and uncapped the bottle in his hand, pouring some onto the paper towels and setting to work gently wiping Keith’s shoulder clean.  Keith couldn’t help screwing his face up, because it  _ hurt _ .  Small pieces of gravel scraped against the already damaged skin as Lance meticulously wiped away all the dirt.  

 

“Sorry…” Lance murmured, tossing the towel out and grabbing a new one.  “This must hurt like a bitch.  Good thing you’re into that, huh?” There was a hesitant laugh hidden in his voice, like he didn’t know if that kind of joke was okay.  

 

Keith pushed out a tense breath and dryly said, “Yeah. Sure.”

 

“Sorry,” Lance said again. 

 

Keith ground out, “It’s fine.” He looked down when Lance kneeled, and the pain that came from Lance cleaning off the scrape on his leg startled a gasp out of him.  “Ah fuck…” he whispered.  Lance looked up at him and grinned, and really, having Lance kneeling and looking up at him like  _ that _ was nothing but distracting. 

 

“You know I can do that one myself,” he said.  He could do them all himself, actually.  He didn’t need to be babied like this.  Lance didn’t seem to believe him. 

 

“Oh shut up,” he said.  “Let me do this for you, okay?  Geez.” 

 

Chastized, Keith gave a small nod and averted his eyes to the opposite wall, away from Lance and his  _ kneeling _ and his  _ smile  _ and- 

 

“Ow.” 

 

“Don’t be a baby.” 

 

Keith laughed.  It made his face sting.  After a few seconds, Lance was pressing pads of gauze from the first aid kit against the wound and taping them into place.  It was going to hurt like a bitch to get that tape off later.  It kind of made Keith wished he shaved his legs. Lance gave his shoulder the same treatment, struggling a little with taping the gauze on at a weird angle, then picked up another towel and poured more peroxide onto it. 

 

“Tilt your head up,” he murmured, standing and leaning in close as Keith did as he was told.  Lance’s fingers were cool against his jaw as he held Keith’s head still, wiping the blood off the other side of his face with the rag.  Keith winced and closed his eyes, and Lance responded by smoothing his thumb over Keith’s cheek, right along his cheekbone.  Keith’s breath caught in his throat. 

 

“Almost done,” he promised.  Keith opened his eyes to look at him, and he found Lance’s face far too close to his own.  He was blushing too bright for it to be confused for anything else, but Keith could feel himself blushing too, so he didn’t call him out for it.  Lance’s tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he worked, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.  

 

“I think a bandaid will actually fit over this one,” he said, at normal volume, snapping Keith out of his head.  “One of those knee-sized ones, y’know?  We, uh… don’t have anymore gauze left.” 

 

“Okay,” Keith said.  “Sure.” 

 

“It’s actually a pretty thing cut.  Probably won’t scar. Hold still.”  Lance moved away, taking a few steps over to the first aid kit on the sink and returning a moment later.  He tore open the bandaid and leaned in close as he pressed it on.  Keith could smell his breath, see the freckles hidden against his tan skin and see the gold dancing in the blue of his eyes.  

 

“So how do you boys know each other?” Coran asked from the doorway, voice enthusiastic and  _ loud _ .  Lance leapt away from Keith, shoulder bumping into a shelf attached to the wall behind him, knocking over a mop.  Keith flinched as well, though not as violently, and glanced between Coran and Lance.  

 

Lance was frozen, face gone from pink to bright red.  His mouth was open slightly, and his eyes were wide, like he was at a loss for what to say.  Keith decided to jump in and save him before he choked on his own breath, or worse, outed the both of them.

 

“We have a class together,” Keith said, and as a way of thanking Lance for helping him out today, added, “He’s been tutoring me in our biology class.” 

 

Coran beamed and clapped Lance on the shoulder.  “Well look at that!” he declared.  

 

Lance chuckled weakly, the slightest hint of a smile spreading over his face.  “Heh… yeah….” 

 

Turning his attention back to Keith, Coran asked, “Do you live on campus?”  When Keith nodded, he followed up with, “You should call someone to come get you.  I’d rather not have you walking that far when you’re injured.” 

 

Keith started to say, “It’s not that bad,” but the look Coran gave him was the same one Keith used to get from his grandfather, once upon a time.  It was a gentle, yet unyielding, ‘don’t fight me on this,’ and he found the words drying up on his tongue.

 

“Okay,” he said.  “I, um… Yeah, I have someone to call.” 

 

One of these days Keith was going to stop bothering Shiro with stupid shit like this.  When Shiro talked to him back at that first munch last August, he probably didn’t think he was signing himself up for this much bullshit.  Shiro would never complain about it, either, because he was a good guy like that.  Keith knew he was taking advantage, whether Shiro would actually admit it or not.  This was the last time, he told himself.  Just to keep Coran from being disappointed in him. 

 

And what the hell?  Since when had Keith started caring about random strangers like that? 

 

This week was stupid.  Keith needed to get a hold of himself, because he was obviously starting to lose his mind.  

 

“Where’d you leave my bag?” he asked Lance, carefully climbing to his feet and stooping to pick his shirt up off the floor.  He held it between his fingers and frowned.  It was torn and bloody, and sure, the black fabric hid the blood pretty well, but Keith wasn’t eager to put it back on. 

 

It turned out, he didn’t have to.  “Oh no, throw that thing away,” Coran said.  “This is a clothing store, young man.  We can’t have you looking like a bum.” Coran snatched the shirt out of Keith’s hands and disappeared out of the bathroom onto the main floor of the store.  Keith blinked, slowly, wanting to argue that he wasn’t a charity case, but Coran wasn’t around to hear it.  

 

Lance grabbed Keith’s bag from right outside the door and dug his phone out, unlocking it himself and looking down at it.  

 

“Who am I calling?” he asked.  Keith frowned. 

 

“No one,” he said.  “I’ll do it.”  He stepped forward to take his phone, and Lance stepped back, holding the phone over his head.  His arms were stupidly long, putting him at an advantage.  Keith glared at him.  He stepped forward again and reached up for it, but his shoulder caught fire at the movement, and he dropped his arm quickly with a wince.  Lance beamed and waggled his eyebrows.  

 

Keith let out a long sigh and muttered, “Please?” 

 

Lance’s smile didn’t change, but he did hand the phone over without further protest.  “Manners look good on you, Keithy-boy.” 

 

“Keithy-boy?” Keith asked, scrolling through his contacts and shooting a message to Shiro.  

 

“One of your many nicknames,” Lance declared.  “I’m pretty sure I’ve earned the right to use nicknames, since you’ve been avoiding me and I’ve seen you get run over and all.”  

 

Keith wasn’t amused by Lance’s antics, and he made that obvious by not responding, instead scooping his bag up and wandering through the store, snaking his way between clothing racks as he approached the one Coran was messing with.  

 

His phone buzzed with an almost immediate response, meaning Shiro wasn’t busy, and Keith read it before slipping his phone into his pocket.  “My ride will be here in twenty,” he told Coran.  “Is it cool if I hang out here?” 

 

“Of course!” Coran burst out.  “Not just going to send you on your way.  Here, this should fit you.”  He thrust a plain white t-shirt at him, an inverted version of the one he’d been wearing.  

 

“I don’t have any money on me…” he said, trying to hand it back, but Coran shook his head and crossed his arms. 

 

“No take backs,” he replied.  “A two dollar t-shirt won’t put us into bankruptcy.  There’s a couch over by the counter,” he uncrossed his arms and motioned in the general direction.  “Feel free to lounge around as you please.  Lance!  Don’t think you’re getting out of work today!” 

 

Lance groaned loudly as he popped up from behind a clothing rack in the back of the store.  “But Corannnn…” 

 

“Go unlock the door.  Make yourself useful.” 

 

Lance went, complaining the whole way, and Keith wandered over to the couch and sunk into it.  His hip throbbed angrily, but it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to dealing with already.  It was familiar, almost.  He tried to avoid thinking about it, pulling up a game on his phone to occupy his mind.  

 

Coran and Lance kept a steady banter up as they worked, folding and hanging clothes and organizing the wracks around them.  Lance told Coran a story about someone back home -   
“Mama’s going crazy, Coran.  Says Lexie is just as bad as I was, now.”  “Oh, your poor mother.” “Hey!”- and sooner than expected, the door chime was going off and Shiro was stepping inside. 

 

He was dressed differently than Keith was used to seeing him, but it wasn’t anything too surprising.  When Shiro was doing his grad student work, and when he was at kink events, he preferred to stay fully covered, wearing long sleeves that concealed him from his neck down to his wrists.  It was mostly for appearances, but it also helped protect against the sun during the hotter months (which was most of them).  Today was his day off, though, and instead of wearing his usual get up of slacks and a button up shirt, he was in jeans and a muscle tank.  His hair was mussed up in the front, where it was long enough to to get displaced.  He blinked a few times, glancing around as he made his way into the store.  Keith bounced to his feet.  

 

“Shiro, hey!” he called, and Shiro turned to him, grinning.  He waved his hand, motioning Keith over.  

 

“You got hit by a car,” he stated, voice amused.  Keith rolled his eyes. 

 

“It was an accident.” 

 

“Well I certainly hope so.”

 

Coran wandered over and appeared behind Keith, reaching around him to hold his hand out to Shiro.  Shiro took his hand and shook it, and the two exchanged introductions while Lance strolled over.  

 

He was doing a poor job of being discrete as he stared openly at Shiro’s arms, and Keith knew it could be surprising to see for the first time, but it still made something angry and defensive stir in his chest.  He glared at Lance, and Lance didn’t even seem to notice him as he tore his gaze away, looking at Shiro’s face instead.  He didn’t say anything, apparently frozen again, and honestly, if he was going to react this way every time he saw a kink person out in public, he was going to have a hard time functioning.  

 

Shiro seemed to pick up on his awkwardness in a way that almost came naturally to him, and he held his hand out to Lance as well.  “Nice to meet you,” he said.  

 

Lance hesitated, gaze sticking to the bumpy, marred skin that spread over the back Shiro’s hand.  He eventually got himself together and shook it, but he drew back to himself far too quickly to be casual.  

 

Shiro said, “Yeah.  It’s pretty weird looking, isn’t it?”  His voice was light now, trying to make Lance more comfortable.  Keith knew Shiro still struggled with it, with the scars that covered his entire right arm, his chest, his back, halfway down the other arm, and a just licking the base of his neck.  It wasn’t an insecurity he talked about, but he kept it covered for a reason.  

 

He must have been having a good day, if he came out in public like this. 

 

“How’d it happen?” Lance asked, hesitation in his voice like he was scared of insulting Shiro by asking.  Shiro didn’t seem to care, though, smile not dropping as he shrugged and slid his hands into his pockets.  

 

“There was an accident when I was in the service,” he answered.  “It was years ago.  All healed now.”   He turned to look at Keith and looked him up and down.  “Unlike  _ somebody _ .”  

 

Coran laughed at that, and Keith rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, yeah,” he said.  “I don’t want to hear it.  You’re more accident prone than I am.” 

 

“Are you two brothers?” Coran asked.  Keith choked on his breath.  Shiro laughed and shook his head. 

 

“Just friends,” he replied.  “It was nice to meet you, but I’d better get going.” 

 

“Yes, of course,” Coran said.  “Take care of this one, now.  Don’t let him run off into traffic.” 

 

Keith made a face at Coran, but Coran just made that grandfatherly expression at him again.  Shiro clapped his hand on the back of Keith’s neck and dragged him along.  “Come on, kid,” he said.  “Have a good day!” 

 

Keith let Shiro tug him out of the store and tossed himself into the passenger seat, forgetting about his injuries until his bruised hip hit the consol.  

 

“Wow,” Shiro deadpanned.  “Good job.” 

 

“Oh shut up.” 

 

“Am I taking you to campus, or are we going to my place?” 

 

Keith settled his backpack between his legs and said, “Yours.  That’s where I was going anyways.”  Shiro nodded and waited for Keith to put on his seatbelt before backing out of the parking space and pulling away from the store.  

 

“So you’re friends with Lance now, huh?” he asked.  Keith scowled. 

 

“Not quite.” 

 

“Uh huh.”  There was a suspicious tone to Shiro’s voice, and Keith didn’t like whatever that meant.  

 

“Don’t,” he said.  “I don’t want to hear it.” 

 

“You should invite him to Rocky Horror next week,” Shiro said, and Keith deflated visibly.  He’d totally forgotten that was coming up, and as fun as it sounded, he was kind of dreading going.  He’d dread it even more if he knew  _ Lance _ was going to be there. 

 

“Yeah, no,” he said. 

 

“Okay.  Then I’ll do it.”  

 

Keith groaned loudly and leaned against the car door, pressing his head against the glass, hot from the sun outside.  “Why?” he asked.  

 

“TNG is for  _ new _ people,” Shiro lectured, the same lecture he’d given a hundred different times, Keith was sure.  “It’s to bring new people into the community and introduce them to different things.  We can’t do that if we only ever invite the same ten people to events.” 

 

“But  _ Lance _ ?” Keith asked.  “He’s probably not even into that stuff.”  Keith couldn’t imagine Lance cross dressing, putting on a corset and fishnets and make up.  Or… maybe he  _ could _ , but he didn’t want to.  If he saw that in real life, he’d probably never be able to face him in biology ever again. 

 

“If he’s not, then he can say no.  There’s no harm in asking.” 

 

“You’re impossible,” Keith complained. 

 

Shiro replied by turning down the radio and humming the Kim Possible theme song as loudly as he could.  Keith glared at him and tried to tune him out.  He failed, and hours later when he was curled up around his notebook tucked into the corner of Shiro’s couch, he found himself humming the song under his breath as well.  The smirk Shiro sent him from his desk across the room was shit eating, and Keith responded by flipping Shiro off, knowing there was no way for him to retaliate when Keith was already beaten up.  

 

Some other day, it might have turned into a game, Shiro double checking that Keith was trying to egg him into something and demanding a traffic light color before actually doing anything, because he was good like that.  Shiro took safety and protocol more seriously than anyone Keith had ever met in the scene, even Allura or the guys from the Leather circle.

 

And Keith appreciated that.  It was comfortable, and he liked knowing that he and Shiro could be in each other’s company in either situation, whether they were just hanging out or doing a scene.  He liked that they were separate, but he also liked that they didn’t have to be. 

 

Shiro was just another reason that Keith should stop thinking about Lance.  He and Shiro’s relationship wasn’t romantic, not in the slightest, but it provided everything that Keith needed right now.  He had friends, and he had the scene, and he didn’t need anything more complicated than that.  Not right now, maybe not ever.  He especially didn’t need weird thoughts about annoying lab partners.

 

“Who are you going as for Rocky Horror?” Shiro asked, closing his laptop and rubbing at his eyes.  “You should do Frankenfurter.  Allura said she wanted to dress you up.” 

 

“Oh my God,” Keith complained, not agreeing to anything.  “Who are you going as?” 

 

“Transylvanian,” Shiro said.  “Obviously.  Got the suit and everything.  Lance says he’s going as Rocky.” 

 

“You already  _ asked him _ ?” Keith yelped, sitting up too fast and reawakening his sore shoulder.  Shiro just grinned back at him, innocent as can be.  

 

“Yes, I did.  And he said yes.” 

 

“I need new friends,” Keith groaned, sinking down on the couch and pushing his notebook onto the floor.  He pulled a pillow over his face, trying to smother himself.  It smelled like lysol, so he made a face and pushed it onto the floor. “You’re horrible.  I’m quitting.” 

 

“Sure you are.  I’m ordering chinese.” 

 

“What?  Not sushi this time?” Keith asked, tipping his head back to watch Shiro upside down as he meandered into the kitchen.  He saw Shiro shudder and grinned. 

 

“Never again.  We don’t talk about that.” 

 

“I told you it was a bad idea….” Keith murmured.  He had no intentions of letting Shiro live that one down.  Five dollar sushi in the middle of the desert was a perfect recipe for food poisoning.  But did Shiro listen to him?  No he did not. 

 

“I’m inviting Allura,” Shiro said, holding his phone to his ear and tapping his fingers against his thigh as he waited, on hold with the restaurant, probably. 

 

“It’s getting a little _ top  _ heavy in here.”  

 

Shiro frowned and paused for a moment.  “Was that a pun?” he asked.  “Did you seriously just make a pun like that?” 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Keith replied, picking his notebook back up and propping it up on his knees.  “Get egg rolls.” 

  
“Yes sir,” Shiro replied easily.  Keith didn’t even try to hold back a laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If Keith didn't stop hitting him, Lance was going to end up with a new kink."

…

  
  


Lance had a problem, and that problem was feelings.  Not that Lance didn’t normally have feelings, because he did.  He had tons of feelings about all kinds of stuff.  But these were new feelings.  These were Keith shaped feelings, and Lance didn’t quite know what to do with them. 

 

They’d gone full circle now, from ‘wow this guy’s hot’ to ‘wow this guy’s a dick’ to ‘wow this guy is kind of pretty when he smiles.’  They were troubling feelings.  Feelings Lance didn’t want to deal with, didn’t  _ need _ to deal with, because despite the mutinous part of his brain that demanded otherwise, Keith wasn’t any good for him.

 

Keith was going to be at Rocky Horror though (at least, Shiro said he was), so Lance had to look good.  Feelings or otherwise, this was a chance to kind of redeem himself, to really show off.  There were only a few minor problems.

 

“Pidge!” Lance demanded, bursting into her room when he got home from class on a Wednesday afternoon.  “I need a movie torrent.” 

 

“You know it’s a good thing I don’t masturbate,” Pidge said, not looking up from her laptop.  “Or you’d walk in on some weird shit.” 

 

“You’d keep your door locked,” he replied.  Pidge thought those sorts of things through.  He wasn’t concerned.  Whatever system she’d device would probably be a lot more efficient than the one they already had, which was just them hollering ‘don’t be naked’ as they opened the door.  It didn’t really give the person inside enough time to respond, and he and Hunk had a few unfortunate run-ins in the past, but it’s the thought that counts.

 

“What am I looking for here?” 

 

“Rocky Horror Picture Show,” Lance said, plopping down next to her on the bed and crossing his legs underneath him.  “Please.” 

 

She raised an eyebrow and glanced sideways at him, all while clicking ‘ctrl + T’ and typing in the new search bar. “Why?” she asked, then said, “Give me twenty.” 

 

“You’re the best.”  He wasn’t answering the ‘why’ question if he didn’t have to, and luckily Pidge was a little lazier with her curiosity than Hunk was, at least when it came to people questions.  At most, she’d squint at him until she figured it out herself, whereas Hunk would snoop through his things or sit on him until he got answers.  

 

It was best not to act too suspicious around Hunk. 

 

“Movie night tonight?” she asked.  “I have popcorn.” 

 

“Hunk has a test tomorrow.  Just you and me.” 

 

“It’s a date.” 

 

“No homo,” he said, leaning over to prop his chin on her shoulder and watch her fuss around on her computer screen. 

 

“Just bros being bros,” she replied.  “Now go away, I really need to finish this.  It’s been driving me crazy.”

 

“Homework?” Lance asked.  He fell over sideways on the bed again and wriggled around until he got his legs over Pidge’s lap and his shoulders propped up against the wall.  He snagged a pillow and stuffed it under his back, and she lifted her laptop up and set it on top of his shins like a table top, not even blinking as she did so, as if it wasn’t a bother at all. 

 

“Nah,” she said.  “Fanfiction.” 

 

“Nerd.” 

 

“Says the boy cried over a South Park fic,” she said dryly.  He frowned and bumped his leg into her stomach. 

 

“You said we never had to talk about that ever again.” 

 

“I lied.  Because I’m cool.” 

 

“Cooler than cool?” he asked.  He pulled his phone out and scrolled through the messages with Shiro again, then switched to his texts and shot Keith another message asking about studying together before their quiz on Wednesday.

 

“Ice cold,” Pidge murmured back.  “It’s downloading.”

 

“You’re the best, Pidge,” Lance said, glancing over at the tiny download bar and thinking about the shorts he’d ordered off Amazon, the ones he had hidden under his mattress for safe keeping, because while it wasn’t totally out there to think he’d own gold spandex shorts just for fun, he’d rather his roommates not stumble upon them on accident. 

“Obviously,” she said, already typing away at her fanfiction.

He couldn’t have prepared himself for what he was about to get into.  All he knew about this movie was what he’d found on its wikipedia page, and Rocky had looked like the easiest costume to put together, so that was that

  
  


…

  
  


The room was dead still as the globe faded from the screen and the opening song started softly humming through the speakers once again.  Neither spoke for a long moment, and when they finally broke from their trance, Pidge spoke first.  “Lance, what the fuck was that?”

 

A grin pulled at the corners of his mouth and spread over his entire face.  “I love it,” he murmured. 

 

“I thought the ‘science fiction’ part was just a joke,” she said, sounding kind of put out about it.  “But no, they actually put that in there.” 

 

“I love it,” Lance repeated.  Pidge sighed loudly and fell over sideways, leaning against him.  The credits continued quietly singing in the background, and besides the murmured sound of Hunk’s study soundtrack coming through the wall, that was the only sound in their part of the dorm that night at 2 a.m.

  
  


…

 

 **Lance McClain (that guy from BIO):** **yo dude, quiz on wednesday**

**Lance McClain (that guy from BIO): in bio lab**

**Lance McClain (that guy from BIO): wanna study tomorrow?**

 

**Cant busy :Keef**

**Lance McClain (that guy from BIO): thought you wanted a good grade???**

 

**… :Keef**

 

**Lance McClain (that guy from BIO):** **( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

 

**Dont send that face :Keef**

 

**Lance McClain (that guy from BIO): ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**goodnight :Keef**

 

**Lance McClain (that guy from BIO): ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

 

**goodNIGHT LANCE :Keef**

 

**Lance McClain (that guy from BIO): is that a yes to studying then?**

 

**no :Keef**

 

**Lance McClain (that guy from BIO): ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**Lance McClain (that guy from BIO): how bout now?**

**Lance McClain (that guy from BIO): ill be in the library**

**Lance McClain (that guy from BIO): two o’clock**

**Lance McClain (that guy from BIO): ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

  
  


… 

 

“This kid is persistent, huh?” Shiro asked.  Keith hummed idly and flipped the page in his textbook before sparing a glance up at him, wondering what he was talking about.  Shiro was scrolling through a phone, and Keith assumed it was his phone until he noticed Shiro’s sitting on the table.  “Hey!” he snapped, and he let out an outraged scoff as he leaned over the table and snatched it away. 

 

“Boundaries, man,” he complained.  

 

“You let me go through your phone all the time,” Shiro said with a shrug.  He picked up his red pen and gazed down at his mountain of ungraded assignments.

 

“Yeah, I let you go through funny messages I get from guys on fet!  Not  _ that _ .” 

 

“Those were pretty funny,” Shiro replied.  “And Lance is on fet.” 

 

“Doesn’t count,” Keith said.  He glanced down at the page of his textbook, seeing an entire table of amino acids, their names, and their acronyms swimming before his eyes.  He had to memorize all of them by tomorrow, along with three other chapters, just in case the information showed up on the quiz.  He was so fucked.  He dropped his head down on his textbook and groaned.

 

“So how’s the studying doing?” Shiro asked, grin in his voice.  Keith growled. 

 

“ _ Bad _ .” 

 

“Remind me again why you’re not at the library?  I don’t get it.  Cute, kinky boy offers to tutor you and you say  _ no _ .” 

 

“He’s not cute,” Keith grumbled.  “Shut the fuck up, Shiro.” 

 

“It’s a shame he’s not a top, though.  He could beat that attitude out of you,” Shiro said, reaching out and ruffling Keith’s hair.  Keith grumbled again and pulled his hood over his head.

 

“After that car crash scene I think I’m good for a while….” Keith murmured.  Shiro let out a quiet, bothered hum.

 

“If that was a scene, we need to have a talk.  It wasn’t safe, sane,  _ or _ consensual.” 

 

Keith reached around and pulled his hood up just enough to look at Shiro without picking his head up off the table.  “Oh yeah, lecture me, daddy,” he said in monotone, reveling in facial expression he received.  Shiro immediately stood up.

 

“That’s it.  I’m going to get coffee.  If Dr. Parks come in, tell her you’re one of my 101 students.” 

 

Keith dropped his hood back down and gave Shiro a thumbs up.  He waited until he heard his footsteps walking away and the door closing behind him before picking himself back up and glaring at his textbook.  

 

“You can do this…” he muttered to himself.  They all said he couldn’t, so he had to.  He got this.  “Medical school or bust,” he said, then pulled the book closer and got back to business. 

  
  


…

  
  


Lance and Keith hadn’t exchanged a single word during their lab on Wednesday, but that didn’t stop Lance from throwing his paper over his head and cheering when he got it back at the end of class.  “Fuck yeah!” he said.  Perfect score, and he was glad to see it.  He’d studied his  _ ass off _ for this, and he was actually  _ good _ at Biology, and this whole thing just felt good.  

 

Lance was used to working hard and getting mediocre results, so this change of pace was more than welcome. 

 

Keith didn’t look as excited about it, and Lance knew he should leave it alone.  Keith obviously didn’t want anything to do with him.  He texted like an asshole, and he never agreed to hang out and study, and he’d been in a sullen, quiet mood all morning.  Lance had planned on asking him how his shoulder was doing, if he was still bruised up, what he’d done with his weekend, but if Keith wasn’t speaking, then neither was Lance. 

 

Two could play at this game.

 

Now, though, the temptation was too great.  He turned to Keith, who was sulkily stuffing his quiz paper into his backpack, and caught the grade at the top.  A 78%, which  _ hey _ , that wasn’t great, but that wasn’t exactly  _ bad _ .  

 

He leaned a little closer and smirked.  “How’d you do, Evel Knievel?” 

 

Keith looked confused for a long second before shaking it off.  He scowled and zipped his backpack closed with a little more force than was necessary.  “Fine,” he snapped and stood up.  Lance stood up immediately after him. 

 

“Just fine?” he asked.  

 

Keith muttered a, “Yes,” and headed for the door.  Lance followed, hot on his tail. 

 

“You got class after this?” he asked, and he honestly didn’t know why he was trying so hard, but it was like tripping over the sidewalk.  He felt it happening, but there was no way to stop himself on the way down.  Luckily, Keith slowed his pace just a tad and let Lance step up next to him as they walked. 

 

“No,” he said.  “I’m heading back to the dorms.” 

 

Lance gasped and put his hand on Keith’s shoulder, ignoring the flinch he got in response.  “You live on campus?” he asked, shaking Keith a bit.  Keith hissed in a breath through his teeth and knocked Lance’s hand away, which was when Lance realized which shoulder that was. 

 

“Dude, watch it.” 

 

“Shit, sorry.  You live on campus?” 

 

Keith raised an eyebrow as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.  “Um, yeah.” 

 

“Me too!  Dude, what building are you in?  I’m in Williams, but I heard the others are  _ way _ nicer.” 

 

Keith shrugged, mouth forming into a tiny frown, and Lance couldn’t help but stare.  “Same,” he said.  He seemed almost hesitant as he glanced at Lance and asked, “You’re from out of state…?” 

 

“California, born and raised,” Lance said proudly.  

 

“Well that explains a lot….” 

 

Lance scoffed.  “And what is that supposed to mean?”  When Keith shrugged again instead of answering, Lance decided to keep talking.  “It’s just weird, how many people are actually from the city.  It seems like I barely know anyone else from the dorms.” 

 

“Yeah, well.”   They came up the front of the dining commons and Lance veered off.  

 

“Gotta go.  Hey, I’ll see you this weekend, yeah?” 

 

Keith glanced back but didn’t stop walking as he called back, “Yeah, sure.  See you there.”  Lance stared after him, watching him go, before deciding that was a really weird thing to do and heading through the front doors of the cafeteria.  Hunk was waiting for him, and it was cupcake day.  Lance wouldn’t miss cupcake day for the world. 

 

...

  
  


“Do I have to?” 

 

“Keith Kogane, I spent forty-five minutes on your makeup.  You’re going.”

 

“Why did I ever tell you my last name?”

 

“Stop being a piss baby.”

 

“Yes, either safeword or woman up.” 

 

“Don’t tell him he can safeword out of social events.  He’ll never go to anything.” 

 

“You guys suck….”

 

“You love us.  Now go put your tights on.” 

 

...

 

Keith and Allura were already at Rocky Horror when Shiro picked Lance up Saturday evening.  Lance had been pretty nervous about it, expecting Shiro to be weird or an asshole or give Lance some kind of ‘stay the fuck away from my boyfriend’ lecture, but it was totally cool.  He just hummed along to a Backstreet Boys CD and asked Lance about his classes.  It was… surprisingly chill.  Lance was still nervous around him though, still paranoid that he was gonna fuck up or piss Shiro off or do something wrong. 

 

Despite his worries, the ride was appreciated.  Lance wasn’t keen on the idea of riding the city bus half naked. 

 

He was dressed in his gold shorts, tennis shoes, and nothing else.  It was hot enough in September that he wasn’t uncomfortable at all, even after sundown.  And yeah, it was a little weird to be  _ that naked _ in public, but he could get used to it.  The shorts he was wearing were true to the movie, covering his junk and his ass, but not leaving anything else to the imagination.  His legs had never felt that long. 

 

He’d also drawn abs on his stomach with a Sharpie, because Rocky was  _ ripped _ and Lance was… not quite that.  It was for comedic effect anyways. 

 

And it worked.  People  _ loved it _ , and Lance spent the whole time they had to wait in the parking lot soaking up attention. 

 

“Well look at you,” Allura said when they walked up to the small TNG group that had gathered.  Her voice sounded fond.  Lance found himself blushing. 

 

Allura was dressed up in a maid costume that did  _ amazing _ things on her.  The skirt was short, the thighhighs were amazing, and her hair was curled and teased up on a frizzy halo around her head.  

 

“Magenta, right?” he asked.  She smiled at him, wide and creepy.  

 

Shiro wasn’t dressed as anyone in particular, but he was wearing a suit with an obnoxiously pink necktie.  He also had the world’s smallest sunglasses perched at the end of his nose, and his hair slicked back.  It was honestly amazing that Lance still managed to be intimidated by him when he looked  _ that _ ridiculous. 

 

A few other people from the group were dressed up, but not everyone.  None of them looked as silly as Shiro did.  On the other hand, nobody looked as hot as Keith.  Or as uncomfortable. 

 

Keith had been hiding behind Allura since Lance and Shiro had gotten there, arms wrapped around his middle and shoulders curled in.  He looked more self-conscious than Lance had ever seen anyone look in the entire world, and it was kind of impressive. 

 

He was obviously blushing under the mask of makeup that was smeared over his face, ears and neck both red.  It was hard to tell what facial expression he was making because of the dark lines decorating his face, but Lance was mostly sure he was scowling.  

 

His hair was frizzy and ridiculous, but that was easily cancelled out by everything else going on.  He was wearing a corset, an honest to God corset, and black gloves that went all the way up to his elbows.  There were a few minor changes to the costume as Lance remembered it.  He was wearing ratty black tennis shoes instead of heels, but like, Lance couldn’t blame him for  _ that _ .  If Keith could walk in heels, Lance would propose to him on the spot, intimidating Doms be damned.  

 

He was also wearing the black boxer briefs again, and Lance was pretty sure the original costume had normal briefs.  Or… panties in this case.  Would they be called panties?  Were they still panties if a guy wore them?  That sounded wrong, somehow, but Lance didn’t know the rules here.  

Disappearing under the edges of the boxer briefs (which were definitely  _ not _ panties.  crisis averted) were fishnets, similar to the ones Allura was wearing.  Keith’s and Allura’s makeup was drastically similar, as was their hair.  Lance had a feeling that she was mostly responsible for all of this. 

 

There was still a good fifteen minutes to wait before being let inside, but Lance didn’t mind.  It was easy to jump into the conversation that was already going with the group.  He couldn’t help but get distracted when Shiro stepped over to Keith and hooked his fingers through the leather collar around his neck (was the collar part of the costume?  Was it an  _ actual  _ collar?  Was Frank N Furter supposed to wear a collar?  Lance had so many questions…) and murmured something into his ear.  Keith swayed automatically into Shiro’s side and murmured something back, and the two were instantly lost in conversation, whispering to each other and ignoring the group around them. 

 

Lance was… only a little bit jealous. 

 

Or a lot jealous, but that didn’t matter, because suddenly someone was tapping him on the shoulder and asking for a picture.

 

“With Frank!” the girl insisted, and Lance had to wonder if she was old enough to be here.  She looked like she could easily be in middle school, and God knows Lance’s mother wouldn’t let any of her children come to this sort of event before the eleventh grade.

 

Even at this age, Lance wasn’t about to let his mom know what he was up to this evening. 

 

“Sure!” he said to the girl, because of  _ course _ .  He didn’t dress up for no reason.  “Keith, c’mon.”  He reached out for Keith, aiming to wrap his hand around the other boy’s wrist and pull him along, but Keith immediately stepped back and drew his hands in close to his chest. 

 

“No way,” he said.  He looked mortified.

 

“Oh come on, Keith,” Lance wheedled.  Keith shook his head.  “All dressed up and nowhere to go.” 

 

“I went somewhere,” Keith replied.  “I’m outside, aren’t I?” 

 

“We’re a matching set!” 

 

Shiro nudged his elbow gently into Keith’s side and said, “Go on, have some fun.”  The look Keith shot him in response to that was one of unadulterated betrayal.

 

“I thought you were on my side,” he said.

 

“Don’t be a drama queen.” 

 

Keith huffed at Shiro, but he also uncrossed his arms and practically stomped over to Lance.  “Fine,” he said.  Allura was snickering into her hand, amused at the entire situation, and someone else in their group was singing Lady Gaga. 

 

“ _ Don’t be a drag, just be a queen. _ ” 

 

“You guys are so cute!” the girl cheered.  Lance wrapped his arm firmly around Keith’s shoulders so he couldn’t run away again, and he was careful about the bandage that still decorated Keith’s upper arm.  He must not have been fully healed from his run-in with that car the week prior.  His face was healed at least.  Lance couldn’t even see a pink mark under the paint on his face.  “Do a pose!” 

 

“No,” Keith said, but Lance was done listening to the spoil sport.  He beamed at the girl and stooped down, looping one arm under Keith’s knees and the other around his back and hauling him up into his arms. 

 

Keith was heavier than Lance expected him to be, which was just more motivation for Lance to start working out more.  He faltered a little bit under the weight, making Keith yelp and wrap his arms tight around Lance’s neck, but he quickly caught his balance and shifted his weight back.  

 

“Smile for the camera, Frankie,” he said. 

 

Keith grit his teeth and muttered, “I hate you,” but he pasted a smile on his face while the girl took their picture.  The smiled widely and lowered her phone, and Lance smacked a kiss to Keith’s cheek before setting him back on his feet. 

 

“Don’t ruin his makeup!” Allura scolded, while Keith grimaced and rubbed at the spot, smearing white makeup on her hand.  The middle schooler ran off to her own spot in line, and Lance shot Keith a smirk, then said the stupidest thing he could possibly think of. 

 

“You need to lay off on the coffee, thunder thighs.”  

 

Keith sent him a scowl and slunk back to Shiro’s side.  Shiro was doing a very poor job of concealing laughter in a cough. 

 

It wasn’t long before they were finally let inside.  The event started at ten, but it turned out the show didn’t actually start until ten-thirty.  There were music videos playing on screen, accompanied by tinny music playing over crackly speakers.  People at the front near the screen were running around in costume making last minute preparations for the show.  Lance followed the rest of the group as they filed neatly into the third row.  

 

At the front of the theatre, a boy in thick rimmed glasses and a button up shirt yelled, “If you’ve never been to Rocky before, get your asses down here!” Lance glanced down the row to see if anyone else would be joining him, and he was surprised to see no one else stand.  That was, until Keith and Shiro finished whatever whispered argument they were having, and Keith shot to his feet.  

 

Lance shot him a huge smile and practically skipped down to the front, Keith shuffling along behind him, looking for all the world like he was trying to curl up really small and roll away.  

 

Lance felt kinda bad for him.  He was obviously really uncomfortable.  He didn’t know what to do to help, so he just did the first thing he could think of.  He reached back and clasped Keith’s hand in his own, intertwining their fingers and squeezing.  Keith, to his surprise, squeezed back. 

 

There were about twenty other people down front, and after the cast marked all of them with ‘V’s on the side of their faces, they were free to go.  But that was when they announced the dance party, and announced that anyone in drag better “get their slutty asses down here.” 

 

Lance looked at Keith.  Keith shook his head.  The song ‘[Dude Looks Like a Lady](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AaN7O24cW54),’ started blasting over the speakers, and Keith tried to run away.  Lance held on. 

 

“Come on, man, dance with me,” he said, pulling Keith close and shouting into his ear to be heard over the speakers. 

 

“No,” Keith shouted back.  “Fuck no.” 

 

“What are you?” Lance asked.  “Chicken?” 

 

Keith glowered at him, facial expression switching from one of humiliation to one of grim determination.  “No,” he snapped, and he let Lance drag him out onto the makeshift dance floor.  

 

It turned out Keith was incredibly horrible at dancing, but Lance decided to play that up, doing the silliest dance moves he could think of and prodding Keith into mimicking him.  They did the sprinkler, the cabbage patch, and some disco moves.  At one point Keith actually cracked a grin.  When Lance turned his back to him and bent over, giving his best attempt at twerking, Keith outright smiled.  

 

“Oh my God, stop!” 

 

Lance was immediately struck with a brilliant idea.  He shouted back, “I’ll stop when you agree to study with me.” 

 

Confusion clouded over Keith’s face as he asked, “What?” Lance hopped back a step, trying to get into Keith’s space.  Keith did a really bad job of holding back a grin. 

 

“Wednesday after class.  Study with me in the library.  Deal?” 

 

Keith rolled his eyes and put his hand over his face.  “Okay, fine, deal.”

 

The people still sitting in the audience were laughing, hard, as were the other people dancing.  Lance wasn’t expecting Keith to smack him on the ass, and when Lance whirled around to gape at him, he found the other boy was laughing too.  Full breathed laughter was lighting up his entire face while he doubled over on himself.  Lance beamed back and took him by the arm, dragging him off the dance floor and back to their seats.  

 

“Proud of yourself?” Lance asked.  Keith just grinned back at him and climbed over Shiro and Allura to get into his seat.  Before long, the lights were flickering and the screen changed as a pair of lips floated to the center.  

  
  


…

 

“I can’t believe you know  _ all the words _ ,” Keith declared for the second time.  Shiro glanced back in the rearview mirror and rolled his eyes.  

 

“It’s Shiro’s dirty secret,” Allura told them, twisting around in the passenger seat to talk to Lance and Keith in the back.  “He practices the jokes in his free time.” 

 

“I do  _ not _ ,” Shiro said, eyes wide and guilty. 

 

“Well you  _ used to _ ,” Allura replied. 

 

“You still practice,” Keith said, catching Shiro’s eye in the mirror and smirking.  “What was that one with the polar bear?” 

 

Allura turned around again and smiled.  “Hey Janet,” she said, her voice a few octaves lower in a sad attempt at mocking Shiro.  “What’s it like to have sex with a polar bear?” 

 

Lance remembered the joke from the movie instantly, and he put on his best falsetto as he declared, “I’m cold, I’m wet, and I’m just plain scared!” Keith and Allura burst into laughter, and Shiro rolled his eyes again, good naturedly. 

 

“Next time you guys can walk home,” he said. 

 

“You sure about that, Shiro?  Keith might get himself run over again.”  Keith swung a hand out and smacked Lance’s arm, but there was a smile playing at his lips.  Twice in one night.  If Keith didn’t stop hitting him, Lance was going to end up with a new kink.  

 

He glanced up and saw Shiro watching them in the rearview mirror, and his breath caught in his throat.  Right.  Fuck.  He had to be careful here.  He didn’t have room to flirt with Keith when he was already taken, especially not when his boyfriend could easily throw Lance through a wall.  He cleared his throat and slouched in his seat a bit, and Allura quickly distracted Shiro with a conversation they’d dropped earlier.  Lance spared a glance at Keith -clothes, ridiculous.  Make up, smudged.  Hair, wrecked.- and watched a blissed out smile spread over his lips as he rested his head against the window.  Lance quickly made himself glance away, down at his hands, and told himself not to get used to that. 

 

Still, he kind of liked it better when Keith smiled.

 

...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “'You’re even hotter than he said you were, by the way.' Keith felt his face heat up immediately, but it couldn’t have been anything compared to the the color of Lance’s face, bright red from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and down his neck, standing out even against his tan skin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: bdsm scene featuring scratching, rough housing, bondage, and spanking (kind of.... you'll see). 
> 
> If you don't want to read that, it's not terribly plot relevant and there'll be a tl;dr in the end notes. That portion of this chapter is marked off by lines, so if you're not here for the kinky bits, read up until the line, and then skim down until the second :)

Pidge was laying on top of the covers on Lance’s bed when he got home from the library on that Wednesday afternoon.  “You’re late,” she said, and Lance had to stop and check the time to make sure he wasn’t actually late for anything.

 

He had a little over half an hour before work, so the coast was clear.  

 

Lance ended up turning right back around and heading out the door anyways, because apparently Pidge had promised to bring Coran coffee that afternoon.  It was easy to forget sometimes that Pidge was friends with his boss- some weird connection that involved the retired astronomy professor/now thrift store owner being longtime friends with the current astrophysics professor or something.  It was weird to see such small town connections in a city of two million.  Coming from a small town himself, it made him nervous that he was going to bump into relatives in the grocery stores sometimes, but he didn’t know enough people to run that risk yet.  

 

There were different risks to look out for.  One such risk was Pidge, who was looking a bit too suspicious as she questioned him about where he’d been after his class that morning.  Maybe it should bother him that she apparently had his class schedule memorized -before now he’d been pretty sure she didn’t even have her own schedule memorized- but at least he knew she was on top of things, at least a little.

 

That didn’t help his current situation, though.  He could say, “Just studying,” all he wanted, but Pidge was on a mission here, and she was far too clever for her own good.  Also, Hunk had probably put her up to this interrogation, and she could be oddly determined when she thought she was acting out missions or whatever.

 

He spent the whole walk to work trying not to spill his coffee on himself and ignoring Pidge’s probing questions and hoping he didn’t run into Keith during the short trip, literally or otherwise.  Keith _had_ said he was staying in the library when they finished studying for bio, but that could mean five minutes or five hours, and Keith wasn’t a secret Lance was ready to disclose to his friends yet.

 

How would he even talk about it?   _“Hey guys, my bio partner’s a hottie, and I offered to tutor him.  Please don’t come stalk us in the library and scare him away.”_

 

_“Hey guys, it doesn’t matter if you stalk my new friend or not, he’s probably taken anyways, and either way he’s so out of my league that this isn’t anything more than a pipe dream.”_

 

_“Hey guys, I met this boy at a BDSM club and now I think I’m in love.  Oh yeah, by the way I’m into BDSM.  And boys.  Okay, good talk.”_

 

As it turned out, Lance didn’t have to start that conversation himself.  One of the first things Coran said to him when he came in for his shift was “How is that friend of yours doing?  What was his name again?  You know, the car crash kid?”

 

Lance made a mental note to change Keith’s phone contact to ‘car crash kid,’ and he physically restrained himself from facepalming when Pidge turned her smirk on him.  

 

“How _is_ that friend of yours, Lance?” she asked, looking far too pleased with herself.  She was sitting up on the counter, swinging her legs back and forth and sipping from her coffee, not a care in the world.  Coran let her do things like that, apparently charmed by the kid after she and her brother had helped him around the store for the past few summers in a row.

 

“His name is Keith,” Lance told Coran, heading down an aisle to straighten some displaced hangers.  “And he’s doing alright.  The scratch on his leg was nearly healed over this morning.”

 

“You saw him _this morning_?” Pidge asked, absolutely beaming. She already had her phone out and was tapping away, no doubt filling Hunk in.  Lance wondered what Hunk was paying her with.  It was probably peanut butter cookies.  Lance wanted to die.

 

“He was a charming young man,” Coran said.  “Handsome, too.  I appreciate a fellow man in a ponytail.”

 

Lance huffed out an incredulous breath.  “You mean his mullet?” he asked.  “Keith’s _not_ a man.”

 

“He’s a beautiful woman,” Pidge deadpanned.  She would never know how correct she was.  

 

“He’s, like, shaped like a bean pole-”

 

“Like you.”

 

“And I bet he can’t even grow facial hair.  His face is, like, unnaturally smooth.”

 

“You’re close enough to notice?”

 

Coran waved a hand at Lance and puttered around, refolding a shirt that was already folded perfectly, probably just to have something to do.  “You’ll grow into it, don’t you worry.  Alfor couldn’t grow a proper mustache until he was twenty-seven.”

 

“Bet he was jealous of you,” Pidge said, thankfully responding to Coran instead of instigating Lance for once.  But they both knew it was hard for Coran to talk about Alfor.  They had to respond to these things properly, or he’d just stop talking about it all together.  Lance didn’t know the details -couldn’t milk them out of Pidge- just that Coran and Alfor were close, and Pidge’s family had gone too the funeral.  He had his suspicions, but it was impolite to ask.  If they _had_ been together, those things were harder for their generation, and Lance would wait for Coran to offer up information before he went asking.  He knew when to mind his business.

 

Pidge, unfortunately, didn’t.  Lance didn’t hear much more about it during his work shift, since Pidge quickly abandoned them to go off to her own afternoon class.  Once he was back to his dorm room, however, it was obvious that Pidge had filled Hunk in.  He was making that face at him.

 

“So Keith, huh?” Hunk asked, and Lance didn’t know why they kept saying it like _that_ .  Besides vague comments they all made about Ryan Reynolds whenever they watched rom-coms, which wasn’t all that often, Lance was certain he’d never had the bisexual conversation with either of them.  It wasn’t something he knew how to talk about, wasn’t something he _needed_ to talk about.  

 

Apparently keeping a secret was making him paranoid, because Hunk followed up with, “Can’t believe you have other friends, dude.  That’s harsh.”

 

He was joking, obviously.  Hunk freaked out about a lot of things, but it was mostly school assignments and being late for the airport.  He didn’t have a lot of insecurities as far as Lance could tell.  He didn’t have to be careful about that stuff.

 

“Yep,” he said.  “I’m obviously replacing you.”

 

“Figures,” Hunk replied, but he was far too nosey to let it drop there.  “So what’s up with your new secret friend.”

 

“He’s not a secret friend,” Lance grumbled, rolling his eyes as he did so.  The essay open in front of him required undivided attention for anything productive to happen, so Lance shut his computer and got up to do something with his hands.  He settled for gathering empty soda cans on his side of the room and crunching them before tossing them in the trash.

 

“Well you didn’t tell us about him, so he’s _kind of_ secret.”  When it came to things like this, Hunk and Pidge tended to talk with a royal ‘we.’  They all did it.  Three semesters in, and they were a package deal.  And yet Lance was keeping secrets from them… yikes.

 

“It’s nothing, really,” Lance said.  “He’s just this annoying kid in my bio lab.  He got kind of hurt a little while ago, and Coran helped me clean him up.  It’s nothing.”

 

“He’s some _annoying_ kid that you’ve never mentioned before?  No offense, buddy, but last week you complained for two hours about an _annoying kid_ who cut you in line at the cafeteria.”   Lance did his best to ignore the look his best friend was giving him and flapped a hand at him dismissively.  He flopped down on his bed and reopened his laptop, checking his email and opening fetlife out of curiosity.

 

“Unrelated.”

 

“Uh huh….”

 

“Really, it’s nothing.  Nothing at all.  He’s just some guy, and we study together, and it’s nothing.”  But oh, it was something.  Computer screen safely turned away from Hunk across the room, Lance read over an announcement for a Building Blocks class that Saturday.  ‘Ropes 102’ it said.  He glanced over the RSVP list and saw Shiro’s icon.  He also saw an icon that he was almost certain was Keith, that he hadn’t tried friending yet because he hadn’t found the guts to click ‘send.’  He held his breath and clicked the ‘I’m Going!’ button, then shut his laptop and looked up to see Hunk staring at him.

 

“If you say so…” he said, not sounding like he believed him at all.  And yeah, well, Hunk was good at judging these things.  Lance could keep some secrets, but not all of them.  He wasn’t sure what Hunk was thinking right then, but he’d have to tread carefully for a while.  His friends were far too curious for their own good, and one of these days it was going to get all of them in trouble.

 

Mostly Lance, and not the good kind.

 

He was so fucked.

  


…

 

**Are you free anytime soon?    :Cherrybob-omb**

**Shiro im dyin i s2g** **:Cherrybob-omb**

  


**Corny-beef:** **Midterms going well then?**

 

 **UGH** **:Cherrybob-omb**

 

 **Corny-beef:** **I should give you the ‘catharsis doesn’t**

**exist and physical coping mechanisms**

**are unhealthy” lecture**

 

 **Put ur psych degree away** **:Cherrybob-omb**

**You dont believe that anyways    :Cherrybob-omb**

 

 **Corny-beef:** **You right.  I’m good at five.  Meet at mine?**

 

 **Yes sir** **:Cherrybob-omb**

 

 **Corny-beef:** **Over’n’out**

 

 **Nerd** **:Cherrybob-omb**

 

 **Corny-beef:** **Don’t sass me young man**

 

 **Or what.  You’ll… punish me…?** **:Cherrybob-omb**

**;)     :Cherrybob-omb**

  
  
  
  


**…**

  


“What are we doing tonight?” Shiro asked as he wedged a towel under the door frame.  Keith threw his backpack down in the corner of the living room and paced by the couch, nervous energy pouring out of him..

 

“Just, like… stress relief?  I didn’t have time to go to taekwondo this week.  I’m losing my mind.”  He really felt like he was losing it, honestly.  Not in a real, serious way, but in an over-caffeinated, can’t-sit-still-for-five-more-damn-minutes way.  Studying was killing him.  Stress was killing him.  Work was killing him, and he’d had too much coffee.  He was dying.

 

“What’s off the table?”

 

“I don’t want to follow a lot of orders tonight,” Keith started, “and I don’t want to have to hold myself still.  And like….”  This wasn’t their first time doing this, but talking through it was still hard sometimes.  Putting things he wanted -things he wanted Shiro to _do_ to him- into words was difficult, but Shiro was adamant about negotiations.  He refused to skip over anything, but that was good.  It was safer that way.

 

“Waiting would be… bad… tonight.  Like….”

 

“You don’t want me to stick you in a corner and leave you there,” Shiro supplied for him.  Keith glanced up and risked a playful grin.

 

“Like I’d stay in place anyways,” he said.  Shiro smiled.

 

“No sex, like usual?” Shiro asked, and Keith nodded.  They didn’t go there with this, didn’t have to, and Keith was past the point where he felt guilty for not giving that to Shiro when they did this.  He’d learned enough to realize that Shiro wasn’t asking for that, that he wasn’t doing anything wrong.  It was nice that they knew each other so well.  Made it easier.

 

“Anything else?” Shiro asked.

 

“My shoulder and hip are still a little bruised, so be careful with those.... Same hard limits as always.  Same for you?”

 

Shiro nodded and ticked off on his fingers.  “No scratching or biting-” those rules existed for obvious reasons.  The sensitive skin of Shiro’s exposed arms could handle impact and grabbing, but they didn’t want to risk any actual damage.  “The rest is still the same.”  Keith nodded again, and fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt before pulling the thing over his head and shucking his pants.  This would be easier if Shiro didn’t have to wrestle him out of his clothes.  

 

He straightened out his boxers and faced the dom across the room.  “Safeword?” Shiro asked.

 

“Red to stop, yellow to pause, green to go.”  Traffic lights were easiest.  Less to remember.

 

“And right now?”

 

Keith swallowed his nerves down.  “Green.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Shiro crossed the room, and Keith let himself get backed into the wall, caged in by Shiro’s body and kept there.  Shiro didn’t touch him, didn’t do anything but pin him there with sheer vicinity and wait until Keith timed their breathing together, slow and easy and calm.  He could smell Shiro’s deodorant from here, a mix of Dove and sweat because it was still hot in October in Vegas.

 

“Color?” Shiro asked, voice just above a whisper.

 

Keith cleared his throat before he could answer. “Green.”  And Shiro took half a step back, leaving just enough space between them but sticking close.

 

“Kneel.”  

 

Keith tilted his head up, looked Shiro in the eye, and said, “Make me.”

 

A lot of doms didn’t like playing with subs like Keith.  He knew the concept of the sub controlling the scene by deciding when to submit, but Keith’s submission wasn’t a pretty little gift to hand over.  He wanted to say no.  He wanted to be defiant and fight back.  He wanted to end up submitting anyways. There’d been a bit of confusion the first time he and Shiro had played together, when Shiro had said “Come here,” and Keith had said, “No,” and Shiro had to yellow light fifteen seconds into the scene to make sure he knew exactly what Keith wanted out of this.

 

_“Do you not want to, or do you want me to force you?  You have to tell me exactly what you want here.  Full disclosure.  I can’t make guesses, that’s not safe.”_

 

 _“I… um….”_ Keith had practically choked on his own spit trying to figure the words out.   _“I want you to make me.  I want to tell you no, and I want you to make me anyways.  I’ll, um.  I’ll safeword.  If I really mean no….”_

 

 _“You safeword if_ anything _happens that you don’t like.  Right away.  You got me?”_

 

_“Of course.”_

 

_“Color?”_

 

_“Green.”_

 

_“Then come here.”_

 

Keith had smirked, feeling something wild and playful filling up his entire chest as he narrowed his eyes at Shiro and said, _“No._ ”

 

It had been tricky to figure out at first, but by now they were old pros.  Shiro trusted Keith to safeword, and Keith trusted him to listen, to not take it too far, to take care of him.  It worked.  This time around, when Keith said ‘Make me,’ Shiro was quick to twist his arm back and knock his knees out from under him, putting him swiftly on his knees.  As if this were something he practiced, Shiro moved like water as he pressed up against Keith’s back, one hand holding both of Keith’s wrists together in the middle of his back, pressed between their bodies.  The other arm wrapped around Keith’s chest, just under his collar bones, and held him tight.

 

“What was that?” he asked, voice playful.  Keith tugged against him, but he was stuck. He was hot everywhere Shiro touched him, and the cotton of his t-shirt was soft as silk against Keith’s back.  The carpet was rough under his knees.

 

“That all you got?” he asked.  “I could throw _myself_ on the floor if I wanted to.”  

 

During games like this, Shiro always rose to the bait.  Keith found himself pressed face first into the carpet, and he struggled against the heavy knee that was planted in the middle of his back.  Shiro let go of one hand, but kept the other arm pinned back in a chicken wing.  Keith couldn’t find any balance to throw him off, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

 

It was a useless effort.  Shiro had military training and a significant weight advantage.  Keith didn’t stand a fucking chance.  Perfect.  Shiro threaded his free hand through Keith’s hair and tugged back, lifting Keith’s head off the ground and making him grit his teeth in an effort to remain silent.

 

That was another game they played.  Keith held back responses for as long as he could, and Shiro did his best to work them out of him.

 

“I was gonna just put you over my knee, but it looks like you need a little extra attention first.”  Shiro let go of his hair and trailed his fingertips up Keith’s back, on the fleshy part to the right of his spine.  The touches were feather-light until Shiro switched directions, raking his nails down Keith’s back fast and hard and igniting a fire.  Keith buried his face in the carpet, glad Shiro was conscientious about keeping the place clean, and held back gasps as Shiro repeated the treatment two more times, placing burning lines almost directly on top of each other.  He switched back to gentle touches, running his nails up and down Keith’s back and down the back of his free arm.  Keith pulled his arm up and buried his face in it, and Shiro switched to running his nails over Keith’s side.   Keith squirmed.

 

The crushing pressure in the middle of his back disappeared as Shiro removed his knee and leaned in to blow cool air on what had to be red marks decorating his back.  Keith squirmed, and Shiro chuckled.

 

“Tickle?” he asked.

 

“Shut up,” Keith said.  Shiro dragged his nails down Keith’s side so suddenly that it startled a cry out of him, and with Shiro no longer pressing his knee into Keith’s back, he stood a better chance of getting free when he started to squirm again.

 

Either Shiro let go, or Keith managed to slip his grip, but suddenly his wrist was free and Keith was able to roll himself onto his back, out of range.  He didn’t so much as sit up, though, before Shiro was straddling his hips, pinning Keith’s arms under his back and trapping him again.  It stung where his new welts rubbed against the carpeting and he sucked a breath in between his teeth.

 

Shiro said, “Tell me if your arms start to go numb,” and raked his nails down Keith’s stomach.  Keith dropped his head back and keened.

 

Once Keith’s chest and stomach were a crosshatch pattern of pink lines and pale skin, Shiro rolled him over and wrestled him into a familiar pair of wrist cuffs that had been stored conveniently on the couch, then hauled him off the floor like a sack of potatoes.  The action startled a laugh out of Keith, though it wasn’t surprising that Shiro could do this.  This wasn’t his first time manhandling Keith all over the place, and if Keith had anything to do with it, it wouldn’t be the last.

 

It was a short journey from their location on the floor to the couch.  Shiro set Keith down on his feet for the briefest second before pulling him down over his lap.  Keith wriggled, letting himself get comfortable with his cheek against the couch cushions and his wrists trapped together by leather bonds against the small of his back.  Shiro was solid and warm underneath him, and Keith was long past being humiliated over the fact that he was rock hard against Shiro’s thigh.  He knew Shiro could feel it, and he knew Shiro didn’t care.  This wasn’t about that, and it wasn’t something Keith needed to worry about.  He closed his eyes and let himself get comfortable, soaking in the feeling of Shiro’s hands stroking over him and the stinging hum that came from the scratches on his skin.

 

“Comfy?” Shiro asked.  Keith hummed and nodded.

 

“Color?”

 

“Green.”

 

Shiro smacked him once, lightly, barely a pat through the material of his boxers, then pressed something cold and plastic against the curve of his ass.  “Remember that plexiglass paddle from last time?” he asked.  Keith’s eyes shot open.

 

“Wait, fuck-” he said, but he didn’t say ‘yellow,’ so Shiro laughed and spanked him.  He didn’t safeword, didn’t want to, just bit back a groan and looked back at Shiro over his shoulder.

 

“Bet you can’t make me cry,” he said, smirking and teasing and as defiant as ever.  Shiro smiled down at him and ran his fingers through Keith’s hair.

 

“We’ll see.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


…

  


Keith lost his bet.  It took a while, but he lost. Some time later -he wasn’t sure how long, maybe an hour maybe more than that.  It was hard to keep track of time when his thoughts were a constant stream of ‘ow fuck please yes don’t stop I’m sorry….’. Some time later his brain started to make sense again and he found himself curled up on Shiro’s chest.

 

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep afterwards, but he must have, since he was waking up. He grumbled quietly and tucked his face closer into Shiro’s neck, and Shiro chuckled and scrubbed his hand through Keith’s hair.

 

“Look who’s back,” he said.  “How ya feelin’?”

 

Keith found his hands and held up a thumbs-up.  He mumbled, “Good. Sore,” and hummed happily when Shiro petted him again.

 

“You ready to move yet?  We can put a movie on, but I want you to drink some water soon.”

 

Keith really considered not moving for the rest of the night, staying warm and happy cuddled up on the couch, but he’d probably regret it in the morning if he didn’t get some Ibuprofen in him soon.  He was probably crushing Shiro a little bit, laying directly on top of him.  Shiro probably had things to do.

 

Okay, time to get up.  He pushed himself up on shaky arms, letting Shiro guide them both upright.  When his ass touched the couch cushions, he bit down on the inside of his cheek and cringed.

 

“The face you just made was priceless,” Shiro told him, looking far too proud of himself as he got up and went to refill Keith’s water glass.  If Keith had his words back he would have told Shiro to stop laughing at him.  Talking was hard after scenes though, so he just glared at Shiro when he reentered the room, still chuckling.

 

Keith swallowed the pill that was pressed into his hand and downed the water in three gulps.  Shiro set the glass aside on the floor and sat back down on the couch, wrapping his arms around Keith and dragging him close.

 

“C’mere, cranky.  Let’s chill for a while, yeah?”  

 

Had he not been buzzed out of his mind on endorphins, Keith would have been far too embarrassed to tuck himself tight against Shiro’s side the way he did.  Shiro pulled Keith’s legs over his lap and draped a blanket over them, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV.

 

“Hey look,” he said. “Golden Girls.”

 

Keith made a grumbling noise in his throat and reached for the remote. “No,” he managed. “Shiro, no.”

 

“This show is a masterpiece,” Shiro said, holding the remote out of reach.

 

“Red light.  No.” Shiro laughed quietly and handed the remote over to him, and Keith grinned victoriously as he switched it to a crime show rerun.

 

“You’re such a brat,” Shiro told him, wrapping them both up tighter.  Keith rested his head on Shiro’s shoulders and let his eyes drop shut.

 

“Thanks,” he murmured.

 

Shiro hooked his chin over Keith’s head, a warm weight wrapping around him and loosening up the last hints of tight anxiety in his chest.  “No problem, buddy.”

 

Keith didn’t mean to doze off again, but he woke up around an hour later to Shiro nudging him awake and pushing his hair back off his forehead.  "Come on, sleepy head," he said.  "Let's get you back to campus."  Keith his a yawn behind his fist and rubbed at his eyes.  He let Shiro pull him to his feet and tugged on the clothes that were handed to him, content and relaxed enough to follow Shiro's lead.  But just for tonight.

  


…

  


Lance decided to use the Building Blocks class as a study break.  He, Hunk, and Pidge had set up camp in the library, and his friends had no intention of leaving from opening to closing for three days straight.  They claimed prime real estate on the fifth floor balcony and were guarding it with their lives, perhaps a little more vehemently than was necessary for midterms, but they were hardened veterans with two semester’s worth of finals under their belts.  They knew how tumultuous the library could get during cram weeks.

 

Coran had been kind enough to give Lance the weekend off to study, so the rope class would really be his only escape from the library.

 

When he’d stood up and announced that he’d be back in a few hours, Pidge and Hunk met him with matching smirks.  

 

“Going to hang out with your _boooyfriend_?” Pidge asked.  Hunk said something about expecting his invitation to the wedding.  Lance flipped them both off over his shoulder as he walked away.

 

As it turned out, Keith wasn’t at Building Blocks anyways.  Lance was occupying a back wall, cautiously eying the people milling around in front of him.  There was a number of people he recognized from Altea, but an even larger number that he didn’t.  A group who all wore an unusual amount of leather clothing were hanging out in the corner, talking loudly.  It seemed like everyone there was _at least_ five years older than him, but there was no Keith, no Shiro, and not even Allura.  Lance felt uncharacteristically awkward and totally out of his league.

 

The thirty minute bus ride was the only reason he hadn’t turned around and left.  He’d put too much effort into getting there to abandon ship now.  

 

Plus, he’d paid five dollars at the door.  He didn’t want to be wasteful.

 

“Thanks for the help,” a voice said next to him, so close and so sudden that it startled Lance, making him flinch and snap his head to the sudden visitor.  He was met with a familiar grin and a button up shirt.  Oh thank God.

 

“Shiro, hi!” he said, and then wanted to smack himself.  Was it really too much to ask to be able to hold a conversation like a normal person?  “Help with what?”

 

“Holding this wall up.  Somebody had to do it.”  Shiro reached out and patted the wall Lance’s back rested upon.  He glanced back at it, looking for some sort of breach in support or something, and then it clicked.  

 

He smiled.  “Wow.  That joke was bad.”

 

“I’m a comedic genius,” Shiro said.  

 

Lance laughed.  “Master of comedy.”

 

Allura appeared at Shiro’s side as if she’d been carried there by the wind.  She wrapped her arm around his waist and propped her chin on his shoulder.  They must have been close friends if they could hang off of each other like that.  

 

Allura slid naturally into the conversation, saying, “Don’t go calling him that.  He’ll get a big head.”

 

“I don’t know,” Shiro replied.  He threaded his fingers together and cracked his knuckled out in front of him.  “‘Master’ sounds pretty good on me.”

 

Allura rolled her eyes.  She obviously had some opinions on the matter.  “You should see if you can get Keith to call you that.”

 

Lance cast a glance away from the doms in front of him and surveyed the room again.  “Is Keith not here today?” he asked.

 

“Not this weekend,” Allura said.  “I don’t think he’s big into ropes.”  

 

Lance felt his stomach sink in disappointment, then reminded himself not to be ridiculous.  It wasn’t like he had anything to be disappointed about anyways.  So what if Keith didn’t like ropes?  Keith didn’t like Lance either, and that was more important than anything else here.  Besides, Lance was here for _himself_ , not for Keith.  He should focus on that.  Pretty boys be damned.

 

“Do you have a partner yet?” Shiro asked. Allura had wandered off somewhere else, and Shiro was looking down at him with what might have been a hopeful expression on his face.  Lance let himself focus on that instead.  Shiro was pretty, kind of, in his own way.  He was handsome, anyways, and not as scary as he’d seemed when Lance had first met him.  He wasn’t _Lance’s_ dom, but he was _a_ dom, and that counted for something.  He was a dom who was paying attention to Lance, who wanted to be partners for the bondage class they were taking.

 

“No,” Lance said, holding his hand out.  “Partners?”

 

Shiro grinned and clasped his hand in a firm shake.  “Sounds good.”

 

**…**

 

 **Corny-beef:** **saw Lance at 101 on saturday**

 

**Ok…...? :Cherrybob-omb**

 

 **Corny-beef:** **he asked about you ;)**

 

 **Don’t do this** **:Cherrybob-omb**

 

 **Corny-beef:** **he’s cute ;)**

 

 **Stop** **:Cherrybob-omb**

 

 **Corny-beef:** **You should ask him out**

 

**Omg no   :Cherrybob-omb**

 

 **Corny-beef:** **omg yes**

**Ur crazy.  I have a drawing to finish.  Go away   :Cherrybob-omb**

 

 **Corny-beef:** **Have fun sitting down to do that ;)**

 

**Fuck offffff   :Cherrybob-omb**

 

…

  


Keith was honestly surprised that Lance could sit still for this long.  It was Tuesday afternoon.  Keith had a work shift starting at six, and they were both done with their classes for the day, so they’d set up base in the library and were pouring themselves into their lab manuals.  Keith was determined to get an A this time.   _Determined_.  Apparently so was Lance.

 

They were going through the manuals and making notes on the experiments they’d done.  What they’d tested, what materials they’d used, what the results had been, and what vocab they were expected to remember.  Lance was doing the even numbers, and Keith was doing the odd, and Lance had successfully sat still for a solid forty-five minutes.

 

No fidgeting, no knee bouncing, no shifting positions every couple of seconds.  Keith didn’t think it was possible.  It had to be some kind of miracle.

 

He must have been staring, or Lance could read his thoughts, because suddenly Lance’s head was snapping up and he asked, “You done?”

 

“Oh,” Keith said.  “Um….”  Lance had highlighter on his cheek, and his hair was sticking up funny where his hand had been tangled in it, holding his head up as he read.  He had a pen behind his ear and a pen cap between his teeth, and with how close they were across the narrow study table, Keith could see every freckle standing out on Lance’s skin.

 

Lance also didn’t have acne, which was just as impressive as the not-fidgeting thing.  Not a single blemish, what the actual hell.

 

Keith was saved from responding properly when something over his shoulder caught Lance’s attention.  His eyes grew wide, and he slumped in his seat with a loud groan.  He said, “Brace yourself,” and then a very tiny person was descending on them.

 

“Oh good, you saved me a seat,” they said, pulling out a chair next to Keith and sitting far closer than was socially acceptable for strangers.  They dropped their giant backpack on the seat next to them and unearthed a laptop from it, pulling it out and setting up on the table.  Lance leveled them with a dubious expression during the whole process.

 

“Um,” Keith started to say, and was quickly interrupted by one of the biggest people he’d ever seen.

 

“Hey!” the guy said, coming around the table and plopping down next to Lance.  “This isn’t where we usually sit.”

 

Lance looked between Keith and the new arrival with a pained expression.  “I thought we were meeting up at _seven_ ,” he said.  The tiny person next to Keith looked up over their laptop.

 

“Oh, were we?” they asked, voice unwavering.  Keith swore to God their glasses flashed.  It was a little frightening.  

 

Lance sighed loudly, all put upon dramatics and overdone body language as he slumped in his seat.  “Okay, fine.  Keith, this is Pidge and Hunk, my roommates.  Guys, this is Keith.”

 

“Keith?” the one who was probably Pidge asked with a suspicious raise of the eyebrow.

 

The other guy leaned over the table and held his hand out.  His skin was a darker shade than Lance’s was, and every feature of him was just wide, a stark difference from Lance’s skin-and-bones physique.  His t-shirt read ‘Maui High School Varsity Wrestling.’  Keith hoped he never had to fight him.

 

“Hey, I’m Hunk.  You’re Keith, huh?  Nice to meet you.”  Keith shook his hand politely and couldn’t quite manage to return the sentiment.  He settled for a nod.

 

Pidge, who seemed to be the opposite of Hunk in every feasible way, turned in their seat to look him over.  They were short, probably close to five foot, and their skin was pale and decorated with freckles.  They wore thick glasses over their eyes, and they seemed to almost disappear under their baggy clothes and poofy hair.  Everything about them was tiny and slender, like they could get blown away by the wind during a seasonal dust storm.  “Nice to put a name to a face,” they said.  “We’ve heard a _lot_ about you.”

 

“Pidge!” Lance snapped.  There was a thump, which was probably Lance kicking Pidge under the table.  Then there was another thump, and a loud yelp from Lance, which was probably Pidge kicking him back.   He shot Pidge a glare as he pulled his leg up and rubbed his shin.  “Ignore her,” he said.  “She’s a gremlin.  She’s full of lies.”

 

“Keep telling yourself that, princess,” Pidge shot back.

 

“So how do you guys know each other?” Hunk asked.  

 

Keith didn’t have time to answer that, though.  Pidge was still leering at him.  “You’re even hotter than he said you were, by the way.”  Keith felt his face heat up immediately, but it couldn’t have been anything compared to the the color of Lance’s face, bright red from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and down his neck, standing out even against his tan skin.  

 

“That’s it!” he snapped, jumping to his feet and gathering his books up.  “I’m going to get coffee, and you’re _not invited_!”  He pointed individually at each of his friends before storming away, calling out over his shoulder as he went, “Come on, Keith.”

 

Immediately grateful that he wasn’t being left alone with Lance’s friends, Keith shoved his lab manual into his backpack and followed Lance to the elevator.  He found Lance standing there with his arms crossed over his textbook, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor and frowning.  He hadn’t stopped blushing, and he wasn’t looking up to meet Keith’s eye.

 

Keith… wasn’t trained to handle these things.  He wasn’t even sure what Pidge had said to him, or how he was supposed to respond to it.  What kind of reaction was Pidge looking for?  What kind of reaction did Lance expect out of him?  Keith wasn’t sure, but Lance was acting weird, and he had to do something about that.

 

“Let’s take the stairs,” he suggested.  “Race you.”

 

Lance glanced up at him curiously before a smirk spread over his face.  “Oh you’re on,” he said and took off for the stairwell.  Keith smiled and darted after him.

  
  
  


…

  


Midterms passed by as anti-climatically as they always did.  As soon as they started, they were over, and Lance was left staring at final scores on webcampus, grinning at the A’s and B’s he’d earned and squinting suspiciously at the C he’d gotten on his algebra midterm.

 

On Friday they’d celebrated with a Dance Dance Revolution tournament and a movie marathon on Hunk’s netflix account.  Lance had a few regrets the next morning when he’d rolled out of bed with less sleep than necessary and made his way to work.  At least he wasn’t hungover, he figured.  And at least the tests were over.

 

Despite midterms being over and them having nothing to study for, Lance and Keith kept their scheduled study session that following Tuesday afternoon.  Lance hadn’t actually planned on going, but then his phone had chirped with a text from Keith, asking if they were still on, and Lance found himself bolting out the door.  

 

He was only a little bit late, but he found it didn’t matter anyways.  When he finally got there, out of breath from running across campus and climbing five flights of stairs, he found Keith leaning back in his seat and talking to someone on the phone.

 

“You can’t be serious,” he complained to whoever was on the other end of the call.  “A halloween party?  Seriously?”  There was a pause while the other person responded.  Lance back peddled and tucked himself behind a nearby bookcase, wasting time and listening in while Keith finished his phone call.

 

“This is a Greek life thing?  I didn’t even know she _had_ a sister!” he said, and geez, what a party pooper.  What kind of loser didn’t want to go to a frat party?  

 

Keith continued complaining as he said, “Oh my God, you’re the lamest grad student ever,” and after a beat of silence said, “Oooooh, I’m _so_ scared.”

 

Eventually though, Keith sighed heavily and slumped even further down in his chair.  “Fine.  Text me the address.”

 

He said, “Friday at ten, got it,” and hung up the phone.  Lance strolled out from behind his hiding spot, looking as casual as he could manage.  

 

“Yo,” he said as he wandered up to their table.  Keith looked up at him and grinned, then shoved his chair back and pulled himself to his feet.

 

“Bathroom,” he said.  “Watch my stuff?”  

 

He didn’t bother waiting for Lance’s nod before strolling away towards the back hallway.  Lance turned and watched him go, then a buzzing on their table caught his attention.  He looked down and saw Keith’s phone lighting up.  

 

The contact name said ‘Corny-beef,’ which was weird, but Keith didn’t keep his messages locked.  The whole text was right there in the notification on the lock screen, and the message was just an address.  Lance blinked at it a few times before lunging for it, grabbing the phone and a pen off the table and scribbling down the address onto his forearm.

 

Frat parties were pretty big, or at least Lance imagined they were.  He’d never actually been to one, but hey, kill two birds with one stone.  He’d get to go to a frat party, _and_ he’d get to be at the same party as Keith.  Lance wasn’t actually sure where he was going with this, or what his intentions were, but he was damn committed to seeing this through.  

 

Besides, a frat party would be fun.  A Halloween frat party would be better.  He was in college.  This was his time to live it up, go wild, have some fun.

 

Plus _Keith_ would be there.  

  
This weekend was going to be awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tl;dr- Keith is a brat who likes being forced into things and Shiro is more than happy to accommodate him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "'Sexy Back' was playing. It had been for some time now, and Keith hadn’t realized this song was that long. Maybe the song was long, maybe time was moving slowly. It was hard to tell, right in that moment, because he had a lap full of Lance McClain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and you shall receive. It's not really what you asked for, so consider it your half birthday present. You know who you are.

**Hey question :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Shiro :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Shirooooo :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Corny-beef:  Shiro’s with me today, sorry :) -allura**

 

**Corny-beef:   He’d say hi, but he’s not allowed to talk**

 

**Brutal.  How long is he out of commission? :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Corny-beef: You can have him back tonight.**

 

**Cool.  Play nice  :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Corny-beef: ;)**

 

**...**

  


“You’re not gonna win this one, Lance.  Just tap out before you hurt yourself,” Pidge said.  She was perched safely on Hunk’s bed, sitting pretzel style with her headphones over her ears and her laptop on her lap, but she’d chosen to ignore it and was recording them on her phone instead.  Or maybe it wasn’t her phone.  It might have been his, but they didn’t have a lot of boundaries.  It’s not like it matters.

 

“Either help me or shut up,” Lance said, shoving his elbow into Hunk’s side and slipping out of his grasp.  He went to scramble to his feet and _run_ , but giving Hunk his back was a mistake.  He’d just clambered up onto his knees when Hunk laughed and grabbed him from behind, wrapping one arm around his neck and anchoring it against the other.  HIs arm squeezed like a boa constrictor, and his other hand pushed against the back of Lance’s head, and he’d seen enough UFC to know this wasn’t going to end well for him.  

 

“Tap out,” Pidge called.  “He’s got you, dude, give up.”

 

Lance had bet five dollars on this match.  There was no way in hell he was giving up, but he wasn’t strong enough to pull Hunk’s arm off of him, and while he wasn’t squeezing hard enough to actually keep Lance from breathing, he was still getting pretty light headed.

 

“Just give up, buddy,” Hunk said.  He didn’t even sound out of breath, which was totally unfair.  Lance fought like a hellion.  He’d spent his childhood tumbling around the backyard with his older siblings and cousins.  He had _moves_.  Hunk shouldn’t have been able to win this easily.

 

“Submission!” Pidge cheered, which did _nothing_ to help the problem that had started stirring in Lance’s boxers.  He was trying very diligently to ignore it, but Hunk was warm and solid and wrapped around him and Lance _couldn’t move_.  “Seriously, I’m not driving anyone to the emergency room.  Just tap out, Lance.”

 

Hunk squeezed him a bit tighter, and the edges of Lance’s vision danced black.  His lungs burned a little, and _fine_ , fuck.  He didn’t really have a choice.  He let go of the vice-like grip he had on Hunk’s forearm just enough to double tap.  Hunk loosened his hold, but he kept his arm around him as he leaned forward and gently lowered Lance face down onto the floor of their dorm room.

 

“You okay?” Hunk asked.  Lance groaned.

 

“You owe me five dollars,” Pidge said, throwing a pillow and hitting Lance in the back of the head.  He didn’t bother moving.  “I told you he could do it.  You didn’t stand a chance, man.”

 

“Next time _you_ fight him,” Lance grumbled.  

 

“Um, no,” Hunk said, picking himself up off the ground and settling down at his desk.  "I'm a pacifist.  Fight each other."

 

“But then I’d kill Lance, and you’d never forgive me,” Pidge said.  She was back to tapping away at her computer, somehow typing and talking simultaneously.  It was one of her scary Pidge Powers.  Lance was partially convinced that she was actually a cyborg.  Hunk hadn’t come up with enough evidence to prove him wrong yet.

 

“That’s fair.”  Hunk nudged Lance’s side with his foot and asked, “You alright, buddy?”

 

Lance rolled over onto his back and propped his head up on the pillow.  “I’m the Thor to your Incredible Hulk.  Takes more than _that_ to kill me.”

 

“The Hulk can kick Thor’s ass.  It’s canon,” Pidge said.  Lance ignored her and made a mental note to change Hunk’s contact name in his phone. ‘The Incredible Hunk.’  Ha.  He was a genius.

 

“So hey,” he said, folding his hands over his stomach and throwing a grin up at Hunk.  “What are you guys doing Friday night?”

 

“Oh no,” Pidge said.

 

“Oh _yes._ ”

  


…

  


It started with beer pong.  When Lance had spotted Keith, the song “Moves like Jagger” had been blasting from a speaker somewhere in the house.  Keith had been across room, looking as lost and uncomfortable as humanly possible, holding onto a plastic cup like a security blanket and sticking tight to the wall of the living room.  Lance pasted on a grin and wandered over to him, and that had been the start of that.

 

Three rounds in and he was starting to feel a little dizzy.  It was unfair that Keith was actually _good_ at this, meanwhile Lance was having a harder and harder time getting the ball to even bounce on the table as the game went on.  On the bright side, Keith had gotten hiccups after chugging his last cup, and it was pretty hilarious to watch.  Lance couldn’t seem to stop laughing.

 

“Shut the-” Keith cut himself off with a hiccup and scowled, frustrated.  “Shut the fuck up.”  A few drops of beer had spilled on his shirt and made dark circles.  The hoodie he’d been wearing was now tied around his waist, and Lance couldn’t stop looking at the amazing things that the black skinny jeans Keith was wearing were doing to his legs.

 

“Make me, mullet!” Lance responded.  His tongue felt kind of heavy in his mouth, which wasn’t something he was used to.  He was probably starting to get a little bit drunk.  His tolerance couldn’t have been very high, considering he’d only had alcohol twice before.  Besides the occasional beer at family get togethers growing up, Lance had shared a bottle of whiskey with Pidge during their first semester and had a regrettable night mixing vodka and a failed class project near the end of freshman year.

 

So his tolerance was pretty low, and Lance was feeling a little bit dizzy and a lot-a-bit happy and warm.  Keith was laughing, at him or with him, Lance wasn’t sure.  He shook his head and set the ping pong ball down on the table.  “Okay,” he said.  “I need some water.”

 

It was nice to see him relax.  Keith had been wound tight earlier, nervous and irritated.  Lance had to taunt him to get him to play beer pong in the first place, and Keith had looked incredibly uncomfortable, not making eye contact with anyone as Lance wormed his way into the crowd around the game table and called next round.

 

Apparently whoever was throwing this party didn’t mind Lance crashing it.  He wasn’t actually sure how frat parties worked, but he’d told Hunk and Pidge this wouldn’t be a problem.  They’d split off almost as soon as they’d gotten there, Pidge wandering off to do _something_ (Lance didn’t want to know), and Hunk following her nervously.

 

He’d rambled nervously the entire Lyft ride there, about how they were _underage_ and this was a _bad idea_ , and Pidge wasn’t even eighteen, for fuck’s sake.  Pidge had been quick to reassure him that she had a fake ID and was the last person he needed to worry about at this party ( _“Matt still thinks he lost his wallet on the plane.  It’s pretty fucking excellent.”_ ).  That information hadn’t done anything to set Hunk’s nerves at ease.

 

They didn’t bump into Hunk and Pidge as they made their way to the kitchen.  Lance did bump into several other people though, and after his third time throwing out a quick apology, Keith reached back and wrapped his hand around Lance’s wrist.  “You’re a mess.”

 

Lance leered at him.  “A hot mess.”  

 

Keith rolled his eyes and said, “Sure.”  

 

There were people hanging out in the kitchen, which smelled heavily like both weed and cigarettes, and Lance wondered how they weren’t setting off the fire alarms.  They didn’t pay any attention to Keith as he carried two plastic cups to the sink and filled them both up with tap water, and Lance didn’t think twice about leaning onto the balls of his feet and draping himself across Keith’s back, the same way he would for Hunk or Pidge or his friends back home or most members of his family.  He realized that maybe that wasn’t okay, once it was too late, and then figured fuck it.  They were _friends_.  Lance was touchy.  Keith would get used to it.

 

He felt Keith’s shoulders hitch with a hiccup and snickered.

 

“Laugh it up,” Keith grumbled.  “What are you doing?”

 

“You’re comfy,” Lance told him.  Keith sighed loudly and passed a cup of water over his shoulder.  

 

“My grandpa used to say that water helps prevent hangovers,” Keith said as he passed the cup over.  “Spill that on me and I’ll kill you,” he warned, and Lance was tempted to dump it over his head, just because he’d said not to.  He didn’t.  Instead he downed the water and choked back the resulting wave of nausea that came from adding water to a stomach that was already sloshy with beer.  

 

“Hangovers suck.  Nobody in my family drinks much, though.  They never warned me.” Lance said.   Keith’s hair brushed against Lance’s cheek as he tipped his head back emptied his cup.  Lance propped his chin on Keith’s shoulder, and Keith shot him a side-eyed glare as he lowered his drink.  

 

Keith looked grumpier than normal, as if a thunder cloud had just rolled in and settled over his head, as he said, “Yeah, well good for you.”  Lance let Keith take his cup out of his hand and watched him throw them both into a nearby trashcan.  He wanted to make a joke about basketball, but then Keith glanced around the room, and his nervous expression was back on his face.  He chewed on his lip and looked around cautiously.  Lance found himself asking, “Dude, why are you even here?”  which wasn’t how he’d wanted to ask that question.

 

“Um,” Keith said, his shoulders tensing up against Lance’s chest, but Lance was too sluggish to move away.  

 

“No, like,” Lance interrupted him before he could get mad.  “You just… you don’t look like you want to be here, is all.”

 

“Well this party does have giant leeches.”  Keith shrugged, trying to shake Lance off.  It took Lance a moment to catch it, but when the joke registered he laughed and stepped back out of Keith’s space.  

 

“Dude,” he said.  “You are _not_ drunk enough.  That’s unfair.  We have to get you drunker.”

 

Keith blinked at him.  “I just saw someone take jello shots into the living room,” he offered, and Lance’s face broke into a giant grin.  

 

“ _Perfect_.” He grabbed Keith’s hand in his own and dragged him off towards the living room.  Keith put up with it and followed along, and he laughed a little bit as he interlocked his fingers with Lance’s and squeezed his hand.  Lance felt hot all over his face and under his collar, and he decided that tonight was going pretty well, even if he’d lost at beer pong.

  


…

 

Lance laughed, hard, and exclaimed, “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”

 

“I didn’t say I believe in it,” Keith mumbled back, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the couch, pout playing on his lips.  Lance stretched his legs out in front of him, taking up an incredible amount of floor space.

 

“Half-man half-moth that lives in the woods?  There’s no _way_ people actually believed in that!”

 

Keith glared at Lance and fished his phone out of his pocket.  “Let me pull up the wikipedia page.”

  


…

  


Keith blinked slowly and processed the information Lance had just give him.  “Five siblings?” he asked.  “And… how many cousins?”

 

“Like twenty, easy.  Probably more.”  Lance looked proud of himself.  Keith felt just a little bit horrified.  He couldn’t imagine being related to that many people, or having to keep track of them.  Remembering everyone’s names would be hard enough, but interacting with them and having them in your space _all the time_.  No wonder Lance was as boisterous as he was.  His whole family was probably as loud as he was.  Keith tried to imagine six Lances and shuddered.  The one Lance that was there with him leaned back against the couch next to him and dropped his head onto Keith’s shoulder.  

 

Keith felt his stomach do a somersault.

 

“What’s your family like?” Lance asked him, voice casual.  Keith gave a tiny shrug and hummed.

 

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he lied.  He didn’t want to get into it.

  


…

  


“If I can stay in the car, yes. If I have to get out, no,” Lance answered, after putting a great deal of thought into his decision.  

 

“You would drive through town naked for ice cream?” Keith asked, voice unimpressed and face confused.  Lance bumped their shoulders together and grinned.  

 

“I’d do it just for the dare.”

 

“You’re an exhibitionist, aren’t you?”

 

Lance shrugged and grinned.  Probably, yeah, but he’d never tried that yet.  He asked, “What would _you_ do for a klondike bar?”

 

Keith said, “Nothing,” and Lance scoffed.

 

“Oh come on, that’s lame.”

 

“I’m lactose intolerant.”

  


…

 

Sparks of electricity crackled over Keith’s skin as Lance’s fingertips brushed over his bottom lip.  He froze in place, very slowly releasing his lower lip and pulling his mouth into a frown.  “What…?” he asked.  He mouth tasted kind of gross, like stale alcohol and fake fruit, and a headache was starting to pulse at the back of his skull.  Maybe that last cup of beer had been a mistake.  It was a good thing his cup was empty, and he was too lazy to get up off the floor and go refill it.  He needed more water, but the kitchen was so far away.  Besides, he couldn’t exactly move in that moment, because Lance was leaning in close and running his fingers over Keith’s lip.

 

“You bite your lip a lot,” Lance said.  “There’s indents.”

 

“Okay?”

 

Lance put his hand back in his lap and grinned at Keith, not moving back out of his space just yet.  “Y’know you have really pretty eyes….”

 

Keith snorted a laugh.  “You’re drunk,” he said.  

 

Lance grinned wider.  “Yeah, I’m kinda a mess,” he agreed.  

 

Keith thought, ‘ _A hot mess_ ,’ and didn’t say anything.

  


…

  


“Sexy Back” was playing.  It had been for some time now, and Keith hadn’t realized this song was that long.  Maybe the song was long, maybe time was moving slowly.  It was hard to tell, right in that moment, because he had a lap full of Lance McClain.

 

They were making out.  They’d been making out for some time now, or maybe they hadn’t.  They’d been making out for the entirety of “Sexy Back,” however the hell long that song was, and for a little while before that.  The music was loud, hurting his ears a bit and vibrating through the floor, doing weird things to the erection that had already formed in his pants.  Lance’s mouth tasted like jello and something bitter.  His skin was hot and just a little bit sweaty.  He smelled like Axe body spray and something else.

 

They were kissing, and he wasn’t sure how it happened except that they were both drunk.  They’d been talking, about what he couldn’t be sure, but Lance had said, “Man, it’s been forever since I’ve kissed anyone,” and Keith had said, “You can kiss me,” and here they were.

 

A tiny voice appeared in the back of his head and started lecturing about how you couldn’t consent if you were intoxicated.  It sounded kind of like Shiro and kind of like the dean of their university.  Keith pushed it away and told it to shut up.  He’d stop if Lance told him to, but as it was, Lance seemed pretty fucking into it.  

 

The kiss was unpracticed and sloppy.  Keith didn’t really know what he was doing; he’d never done this before.  But maybe Lance was too drunk to care if Keith was good at kissing or not.  Maybe kissing was supposed to be kind of messy.  Lance wasn’t protesting at all, either way.  He just pressed closer to Keith and tugged his bottom lip between his teeth.  Keith damn near _melted_ , and the noise that he made in his throat was entirely involuntary.

 

Justin Timberlake sang the line, _“I’ll let you whip me if I misbehave.”_  Lance pulled back just a little bit, resting their foreheads together and giggling against Keith’s mouth.  Keith’s hand was already resting on Lance’s hip, so he slipped it under his t-shirt and pinched his side.  Lance’s hips immediately bucked forward, and Keith bit his own lip and smirked.

 

“Shut up,” Lance grumbled, and then he suddenly went stark still.  Keith frowned.  He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but Lance beat him to the punch.  He said, “Oh my God,” under his breath, and then louder, “Oh my God we’re cheating on your boyfriend.”

 

Keith’s thoughts stuttered to a stop.  “What?” he asked.

 

“Oh my God,” Lance said again.  He was obviously freaking out, but he also hadn’t moved from where he was straddling Keith’s lap yet.  It was weird to watch him panic up close like that, the two of them sitting on the floor in the living room, tucked into a mass of strangers who couldn’t care less what they were doing.  “Is he here?” Lance asked.  

 

Keith blinked slowly.  “Is… who here…?” he asked, taking his time.  Lance’s eyes grew comically wide. Keith frowned again, because wait.  “Wait,” he said.  “Wait, what?  I don’t have a boyfriend.”

 

Lance flopped his hands about and leaned back.  Keith’s legs were starting to go numb.  “Okay, your Dom, whatever.  Oh my God, he’s going to kick my _ass_.”  

 

“What?” he repeated.  Because honestly, _what_?  

 

Lance made an aggravated sound in his throat and waved his hands around again.  “Shiro!” he snapped.  Keith flinched back at the volume and blinked.  “You’re… you’re his!  You belong to-”  He obviously had more to say, working himself up good and word vomiting all over the place.  Keith didn’t give him the chance though.  He couldn’t.  Because at those words - _’You’re his_ ’- Keith dropped his head back and laughed.  

 

He died laughing, cackling like a crazy person and pressing his hands over his face.  Maybe it was the booze.  Maybe it was the situation.  Maybe it was the fucking suggestion that Shiro had any sort of _ownership_ over him.  Lance was still sitting on his lap and looking a little more than pissed.  That was fair.  Keith was laughing in his face, almost literally, but he couldn’t stop. The harder he tried, the funnier he found it, until he was dropping his head onto Lance’s shoulder, clutching his sides, and howling.  

 

“ _What?_ ” Lance snapped.  

 

Keith tried to explain.  He really did, but it took him another long minute before he was actually able to form words.  “You-” he started, then lost it again.  “You think that-”  He choked back more snickers and did his best to compose himself, which was pretty fucking hard with the look Lance was giving him.  Keith didn’t know why, but it was _hilarious_.

 

“ _What_.” Lance demanded again, sounding even more pissed.  Keith leaned back against the couch he’d been using as a backrest and patted at Lance’s shoulder.

 

“Lance,” he said.  “Dude, no.  Shiro’s in love with Allura.”

 

Lance looked just as confused as before, and he opened and closed his mouth several times before settling on asking, “But they’re both doms….”

 

Keith tried to imagine the look on Allura’s face if she’d heard Lance saying that and almost burst out laughing again. He managed to restrain himself and shook his head.  “Shiro’s a switch.  He’s a bigger sub that I am, _fuck._ ”

 

Lance was obviously faltering under all of this information, but Keith was too drunk to deal with it.  “But you…” Lance said, trailing off.  Keith’s hand reached out and landed in the middle of Lance’s chest.  He gripped Lance’s t-shirt in his grip and pulled him close, until they were nose to nose and sharing breath again.  Lance looked startled, eyes wide and breathing coming quick.

 

“Listen,” Keith said, speaking slowly and deliberately.  “I don’t _belong_ to anyone.”

 

Lance’s eyes darted around, searching over Keith’s face like he was figuring out some sort of puzzle.  Keith stared straight back at him, challenging him to argue otherwise.  He wasn’t expecting Lance to dart forward and press their lips together again, but he didn’t do anything to stop him.

  
  


…

…

...

  


“Dude,” Hunk said, hand shaking Lance’s shoulder through the bed covers.  “C’mon, man.  You’re going to be late for work.”  

 

Lance groaned loudly and tugged his pillow over his head, which was _pounding_.  He’d woken up hours earlier, thrown up in the sink, and collapsed back into bed again.  Hunk rubbed his back through the blankets and said, “You did this to yourself, buddy.”

 

“I hate you,” Lance grumbled.  “I hate myself.  Hunk, I’m an idiot.”

 

“Are you referring to the getting drunk thing, the kissing Keith thing, or the throwing up in the sink thing?  Because I, personally, am most upset about that last one.  Gross, dude.”

 

Lance clutched at his pillow and whined.  “I _kissed him_ , Hunk!”

 

“He kissed you back,” Hunk pointed out.  “He didn’t seem too upset when we found you.”  Lance thought back to the night before, the conversation that had been running through his head ever since he’d woken up that morning.  It was driving him crazy.  He was such an idiot.

 

“What if he hates me?”

 

“He doesn’t hate you.”

 

“I’m such an idiot….”

 

“You’re an idiot who’s going to be late for work.  C’mon.  Up.  I have gatorade.”  Lance whined again, but he pushed away the pillow and made himself sit up.  His stomach tossed alarmingly, and he wrapped his arms around himself and flopped face first over his legs.

 

“Ugh.”

 

“You’ll live.  Take some aspirin.”  Lance whined again.  Hunk just sighed and patted him gently on the back.  

  
  


…

  


Keith wrote and deleted half a dozen texts before closing his messaging app.  His shift at the Coffee Bean didn’t start until five o’clock that evening, so Keith was taking full advantage of his Saturday and lounging around in bed.  He felt a little bit like he was dying.  His grandfather’s advice about drinking water had been bullshit, and he was starting to understand the moods the old man got into sometimes.  

 

Keith switched to the safari app instead and logged onto his fetlife account.  There wasn’t much going on- Shiro liking a few journal entries, Allura posting a few pictures, people commenting on upcoming events- but there was nothing he actually cared to look at.  Instead he typed in a familiar user name and stared at the profile after opening it.

 

The bio still said, ‘I’m just a boy from Cuba,’ even though Lance had said that he was from California.  “ _Born and raised,_ ” he had said.  Keith would have to remember to ask about that.

 

He was assuming Lance would still want to talk to him.  Lance had _made out with him_ , after all, and sure they’d been drunk, but he had to like Keith at least a little bit, right?  Keith remembered Lance saying something beforehand, something about how Keith’s hair was ‘cute when it’s tied back.’  Lance was the one who’d been so persistent about them studying together, and who was bothering Keith all the time.  Lance obviously wanted to talk to him.  Getting drunk and making out at a random party wouldn’t change that.  At least, Keith kind of hoped not.  

 

He looked over the profile again and held his breath as he clicked the ‘friend request’ button.  He then locked his phone and set it on his stomach, folding his hands over it and staring at the ceiling for a long moment.  That was it.  The deed was done.  

 

Fuck.

 

Keith picked his phone back up and dialed Shiro’s number from memory.  It rang three times before the dial tone stopped, and there was some shuffling sounds on the other end.  Shiro made a groaning noise into the phone, and eventually he said, “Keith, it’s too God damn early in the morning.”

 

Keith looked at the alarm clock sitting on his desk and said, “It’s noon.  Not my fault you got wasted.”

 

“I was _not_ wasted.”

 

“You could barely walk.  Allura practically had to carry you.”  Keith rolled the edge of his blanket between his thumb and pointer finger and asked, “How ya feeling…?”

 

Shiro groaned again, and Keith could imagine him shoving his face into his pillow and balancing the phone on his ear.  “Fine,” he grumbled.  “Did you have a reason for waking me up, or is it just ‘make Takashi suffer’ day?”  

 

“It’s always that day,” Keith answered.  “No, yeah.  Lance said something last night.”

 

“That kid talks a lot.  He says lots of things.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes and stifled a yawn behind his fist.  “He thought we were together,” he told Shiro.  “He said I _belonged_ to you.”

 

There was a long, _long_ beat of silence before Shiro finally responded, and when he did there was a playful edge to his faux-serious tone.  “Talking to pretty boys without my permission.  That’s against your contract, young man.”  

 

Keith chuckled and pressed his hand over his eyes.  “What are you going to do with me?”

 

“Something horrible, probably,” Shiro said, then made another cranky noise.  “I’m going to beat you for waking me up.  Seriously, Keith, what the fuck?”

 

“I kissed him.”

 

“And now you have his cooties,” Shiro deadpanned.  “Happy to hear it.”  Keith whined, dragging out the ‘o’ in Shiro’s name and flopping a bit on his bed.  Shiro grumbled again.  “I’m going back to bed.  Let me rest.”

 

“Old man needs a nap?” Keith asked him.  

 

Shiro laughed and said, “Brat,” and then he hung up.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lance’s cheeks flushed immediately and he glanced over at the posters on Keith’s wall again. Lance McClain being embarrassed was something Keith was never going to get over. It was kind of awesome.  
> 'Boy Scouts,' he said. 'We, um… they teach you how to tie knots, y’know?'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: some rope bondage, masturbation, description of sex acts. 
> 
> Just like last time, the dirty stuff starts at the first line and stops at the second. tl;dr at the end.

Everything was bullshit.

 

Well, not _everything_ , but at that moment in time Keith was willing to suspend belief enough to convince himself.  There wasn’t anything spectacular about Monday afternoons on their own, but this one was disproportionately subpar, as far as Monday afternoons went.  He had a shift at the Coffee Bean scheduled for a few hours after his classes that day, and four hours at work were enough to drain him of whatever thread of energy he’d been clinging onto before his shift.  

 

Keith was convinced there was a grand conspiracy by the university to suck the life out of students via coffee shops, both by drugging them up on caffeine and ridding them of any sort of natural, biological happiness; and by forcing broke undergraduates to work as indentured servants, smell perpetually of burnt coffee, and scrub mysteriously sticky messes off the tile floor on their hands and knees.

 

“That’s a little dramatic,” Lance said.  The shop was pretty scarce that evening, the only customers being Lance and a few kids tucked into their laptops, oblivious to the world around them.  As an extra form of torture, this one probably sent by the _universe_ rather than the university, Keith’s coworker -headphone guy- was a useless slug who did absolutely _no_ scrubbing, and his manager was a sadistic bastard who hung out in the backroom, texting, and only emerged to ask, “Oh, you’re not done yet?” leaving Keith to do all of the work all by himself.

 

Well, not all by himself.  Lance was pretty persistent about keeping him company.

 

“It’s appropriately dramatic for the situation,” Keith grumbled.  He sat back on his heels and glared at Lance, who was sprawled out in a chair with his feet kicked up on the table, sipping at an iced coffee -which Keith had made- and looking far too entertained.  

 

He said, “You look good on your knees,” and winked, and Keith whipped his rag at him.  

 

Keith had been a little worried that Lance would be weird after what happened at the party, and he’d decided to act as casual as possible the next time he saw him to try and set things back to normal.  He wasn’t sure what normal was, but luckily for him, Lance was either on the same page or entirely unaffected, because it only took about five minutes of awkward interactions before Lance visibly uncoiled and went back to normal.

 

Keith hadn’t expected to see him so _soon_ , but hey, it worked out anyways.

 

“Why are you even here?” Keith asked, a little pleased with himself over the way Lance was pouting and rubbing at a gross water stain on the front of his t-shirt.  “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

 

Lance shrugged and slouched so far in his seat that it was kind of amazing he managed to balance between the table and the edge of his chair.  Keith should really tell him to get his feet down, but if Keith’s manager wasn’t saying anything, then he wasn’t either.  It was 7 p.m. on a Monday.  Who gave a shit?

 

“Came here from work,” he explained.  “If I went back to my room I’d be _bored_.”

 

“You’re not bored here?” Keith asked.

 

Lance said, “Plenty of entertaining things to look at.”

 

Keith dropped his rag back into the bucket of water and crossed his arms over his chest.  He frowned up at Lance, and it took Lance a few seconds before he noticed and pulled his attention away from his phone.  He frowned back.  “What?”

 

“Is this the way things are now?” Keith asked him.  If you wanted direct answers, you asked direct questions.  Keith often felt like he was missing out on some crucial rule book of social interaction, and after years and years of bumbling around like an anxious idiot, he’d learned to just start going for it.  If he said something wrong and people decided not to talk to him anymore, then oh well, less to worry about.  Keith kind of hoped Lance didn’t decide to stop talking to him.  Keith was starting to get used to this.

 

“Um, come again?” Lance asked.  “What are you talking about?”

 

Keith rolled his eyes.  “The, like… weird flirting thing,” Keith asked.  “Is this something I should just get used to?”

 

Lance went still in his seat, staring at Keith with large, owlish eyes.  He seemed to consider for a moment before saying, “I mean… if you want….”

 

Keith wrinkled his nose up.  “What does _that_ mean?” he asked.  Lance bristled a bit and finally swung his feet down from the table.  He sat up properly and braced his elbows on his knees, leaning down to be more on Keith’s level.  Keith was suddenly self-conscious about the fact that he was kneeling on the floor at Lance’s feet, which was suddenly a _thing_ thanks to Lance sitting up.  It wasn’t actually a thing though, and his mind shouldn’t be going _there_.  Keith cursed himself and his late adolescent hormones and very stubbornly stayed put on the floor.

 

“It means I’ll stop if you want me to,” Lance explained.  “But otherwise, yeah.  Get used to it.”

 

Keith considered that, considered the very careful way Lance had phrased what he said.  It was interesting how he slipped consent so easily into normal conversation, how he put it in a way that some people might not even think to consider, but Keith couldn’t help but notice.

 

“Took Hunk like a month to get used to it,” Lance added, stretching his legs back out and folding his hands behind his head.  “Pidge still gets all riled up.  It’s kind of awesome.”

 

Nevermind, then, Keith was just being an idiot.  Lance did this with _everyone_ .  He flirted with _friends_.  Lance probably flirted with every person he met.  Keith felt his stomach sink.

 

“Yeah, whatever then,” he murmured.  He sighed. He rolled his shoulder.  He got back to work.

 

“What time do you get off?” Lance asked him. Keith saw the opportunity and took it.

 

“Around 2 a.m. every night.”

 

“What?”

 

Keith made his face blank and looked up.  “At eight.  Don’t tell me what time it is.  Makes it go slower.”

 

“It’s seven thirty-five,” Lance said.

 

“Wow, thanks.”

 

Lance fidgeted with his cup, rolling it in his hands and then drumming his fingers against the side.  He bit his lip and looked away, and then he looked back at Keith and asked, “So do you want to hang out?  After work?”

 

Keith kind of froze.  It was a simple question- _‘Do you want to hang out?’_ \- but it felt like a minefield.  What did Lance want to do?  What was Keith supposed to do?

 

Lance answered when he kept talking, words obviously nervous from the way they poured out a bit too fast and the way Lance couldn’t keep still.  It was making _Keith_ nervous.  Fuck.  “We could, like, play video games in my room or whatever.  Pidge and Hunk are there, but they’re cool, they like you, so….”

 

There were two very important problems with this- Keith was ridiculously bad at video games, and he was about 80% sure that Pidge actually hated his guts.  Besides, Keith was tired and cranky from being at work, and hanging out with people was kind of the _opposite_ of relaxing.  He’d spend the whole time overthinking the whole interaction and feeling guilty about the studying he wasn’t doing.  He knew himself, and he knew this was a horrible idea.

 

Keith pushed himself up to his feet, joints popping as he did so, and swung the bucket up off the floor.  “Um,” he said.  “I… Not tonight.  Sorry.”

 

Lance’s expression visibly melted, and Keith felt even worse. “Oh…” he said.  “Yeah, that’s… okay, cool.”

 

“Sorry,” Keith mumbled, then turned on heel and headed back behind the counter, mentally kicking himself the entire time.  And here he thought he was doing _better_ at the whole ‘making friends’ thing.  Apparently not.

 

After a second of hesitation, Lance got up and made his way up to the counter, leaning his elbows on the glass case and watching Keith move around as he got things in order for the end of his shift.  Keith didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t care, and tried to focus on straightening paper cups and wiping coffee stains off the counter.

 

“Hey,” Lance said eventually, pulling Keith’s gaze back up to him.  “What if we went to your room?” he asked.  “No creepy roommates.  We can do whatever.  I have an essay to write, so….”

 

Keith studied him for a long moment.  “You want to hang out and do homework?” he asked.  Lance shrugged.

 

“You can say no, but like… My friends can be a lot.  I get it.”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow.  “ _You_ can be a lot,” he pointed out.  Lance’s mouth fell open, and he pressed his hand to his chest, looking scandalized and putting his entire body into the affronted movement.

 

“I’ll have you know, I am _the_ most low-key person in the world. _”_

 

Keith thought about the suggestion, considered hanging out with Lance in his own space rather than Lance’s, and he felt his chest loosen up just a little bit.  His room was quiet, empty, familiar.  Sure, it was nerve wracking to have someone over.  The only people who’d seen his room was Shiro and somebody from his taekwondo club once.  He didn’t know Lance that well, and he still wasn’t sure what was expected of him here, but hell.  It would be nice to have company, even if they were just doing homework.

 

“Sure,” he finally said.  “Let me finish up, then we’ll head out.”

 

“Take your time,” Lance said.  “And you can make me another drink.  Please.”  He waggled his empty cup over the counter between his fingertips and shot Keith a giant, cheesy grin.  Keith sighed loudly and rolled his eyes, but he took the cup from him anyways.

 

…

 

Letting Lance into his room reminded Keith of introducing a puppy to a new home.  Keith had never seen that in _person_ , had never had a pet growing up, but he’d seen videos online.  Keith unlocked his door and stepped inside, hitting the lights and tossing his backpack down on the bed.  His room was pretty clean, which was kind of a relief.  There was laundry in a pile around the hamper in the corner of the room rather than actually _in_ the hamper, and his books were in haphazard stacks on his desk and dresser and the floor, but besides that everything was pretty taken care of.  

 

Lance wandered inside and looked around curiously, poking around and looking at the stuff Keith had taped to his wall. “X-files,” he said, running his fingers over the bottom of the ‘I Want to Believe’ poster.  “Cool.  You don’t have a roommate?”

 

Keith shook his head and moved past Lance to set himself up at his desk.  “He dropped out in August, like two weeks in.  They didn’t bother to reassign the room.  Got lucky.”

 

Lance nodded.  He poked at a book with the edge of his shoe and stooped down to pick something up off the floor.  “Really?” he asked.

 

Keith scowled.  “Yes, really….”

 

“You’re such a weeaboo.  Holy shit.”

 

“A what?” he asked.  When Lance started swinging the nunchucks around, Keith rolled his eyes and added, “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Lance ended up smacking himself in the eye, and Keith took the nunchucks away and shoved them into his gym bag for safe keeping.  He poked around in his mini-fridge and unearthed a can of soda, and Lance took it with a shy smile and pressed it to his eye.  “Do you actually know how to use those things?”

 

Keith opened up the blank document (read, “essay”) that he’d been working on (read, “procrastinating on”) and stared at it, same way he had been all weekend.  “Uh huh,” he murmured.  He looked at the instructions again and scowled.  Keith had absolutely no thoughts about the ethics surrounding the casino economy in Las Vegas.  No thoughts.  He didn’t care.  He wasn’t old enough to go to casinos anyways.

 

“I call bullshit,” Lance argued.  “What other weird things can you do?”

 

Keith heaved a sigh and rubbed at his eyes.  “I’m not sure how to answer that question….” Lance pulled his gym bag over and poked around in it, obviously not concerned with privacy.  Not that it really mattered.  

 

“You fight?” he asked.

 

“Kind of.”

 

“That makes sense.”  Keith glanced over at him curiously, abandoning his essay once again.

 

“Huh?” he asked.

 

Lance grinned and popped open his soda can.  He took a gulp and set it on the dresser, then sat on the edge of Keith’s bed and crossed his arms.  “Y’know, masochist.  Karate.  It adds up.  Martial arts is pretty kinky.”

 

That was something Keith had thought about before, of course, but it usually only came to mind when they had grappling sessions.  Nothing reminded you of your weird sexual tendencies like getting your face crushed into the mat and popping a boner.  Not that anybody really noticed or cared, but it was hard to ignore in the moment.

 

Keith shrugged.  “Yeah, well…. What about you?  What not-kinky stuff do you do?”

 

Lance’s cheeks flushed immediately and he glanced over at the posters on Keith’s wall again.  Lance McClain being embarrassed was something Keith was _never_ going to get over.  It was kind of awesome.

 

“Boy Scouts,” he said.  “We, um… they teach you how to tie knots, y’know?”

 

Keith twisted his mouth up to hold back a laugh.  “Really?” he asked.

 

Lance blushed darker. “Shut up….”

 

“I never did Boy Scouts,” he said, for lack of anything better to say.  Lance perked up immediately.

 

“Oh, it was the _best_.  All my brothers were in it, too.  We passed down the uniforms and everything.  My mom had to keep unsewing and resewing the patches, and she ended up teaching me how to sew so I could do it myself,” Lance explained, dopey smile on his face.

 

Keith couldn’t help but grin at least a little.  “My grandmother taught me to sew,” he said.  “I was always ripping holes in my clothes as a kid.”

 

Lance raised an eyebrow and leaned forward to poke at Keith’s knee, which was exposed through a worn spot in his jeans.  “Just when you were a kid?”

 

Keith laughed and pulled his leg away.  “Whatever.”

 

Lance leaned back and toed his shoes off.  He kicked them aside and pushed himself back, sprawling out on Keith’s unmade bed and folding his arms under his head.  “I miss my family.  It’s not as bad as Hunk.  His is all the way across an ocean, man, but like… I wish I could see them more.”

 

Keith bit at his thumb nail and didn’t reply.  He tried not to think about that.  It wasn’t a thing he let himself get sad about.  It wasn’t a thing he _told_ people.  But his silence must have been obvious, because Lance glanced over at him and frowned.

 

Keith forced a grin and nodded.  “Yeah,” he said.  “Yeah, same.”

 

Lance nodded and looked back at the ceiling.  Keith turned back to his essay and frowned.

  


…

 

**Corny-beef: You made a friend! :)**

 

**Shut up :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Corny-beef: I’m so proud :) :) :)**

 

**Shut. up. :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Corny-beef: They grow up so fast :’)**

 

**Shut. UP. :Cherrybob-omb**

  


**…**

 

**Ur-highness: you made a friend :)**

 

**Oh my FUCKING GOD :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Dont listen to shiro he’s lying :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Ur-highness: Shiro wouldn’t lie to me ;)**

 

**You’re both horrible :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Yes, I made a /friend/. That’s it :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Ur-highness: that explains why i saw you sucking face at my sister’s party**

 

**… :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Ur-highness: :) :) :) :) :)**

 

**Shiro give allura her phone back :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Ur-highness: “make me”**

 

**You’re not funny :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Ur-highness: he’s pretty funny :)**

 

**Ur-highness: your new bf is funny too**

 

**I hate you guys :Cherrybob-omb**

 

...

 

For the first time in literally forever, Lance had the room all to himself.  And by all to himself, he meant _all_ to himself.  Pidge had gone home for the weekend, and Hunk was out on a study date with some girl from one of his engineering classes, so Lance was finally, blissfully alone.  He locked all the doors, just in _case_ Pidge decided to come home early and shut the blinds on the windows.   Then he knelt down and dug around under his bed until his fingers wrapped around a familiar bundle he kept hidden in his duffle bag for safe keeping.  

 

Lance unearthed the bundle of rope and quickly undid the knot holding the whole thing together.  They day he'd bought it had been both the greatest and most nerve wracking day of Lance's life.  He'd stopped by the 99cent store after work to get Kraft Mac'n Cheese (Hunk insisted it wasn't real food.  Pidge insisted that if Lance didn't replace the box he'd stolen, she'd fill his mini fridge with a "surprise." 

 

_"A surprise...?"_

 

 _"You don't want to know, and you won't like it."_ )

 

He hadn't known the 99cent store sold rope, but there it was, in a dozen different colors and far too tempting to say no to.  The rope he'd picked out was blood red, which did amazing things with his skin tone, if he did say so himself.  He bought the rope and the mac'n cheese, and he'd been blushing like the devil the whole time he checked out. 

 

Worth it, though.  Totally worth it.  He had ten feet of rope to work with, and since getting the stuff early last semester he'd learned a good number of ties he could do on himself without much trouble.  He knew the mermaid one by heart, and it barely took any time at all before he had his legs bound together, the rope unyielding from his ankles until just under his knees and already sending sparks of arousal through his body.

 

He gave himself a few moments just to play with it, to tug at the ropes and tighten the knot, to roll his ankles and see exactly how much movement he was capable of.  It wasn't much.  It was  _awesome_.  

 

Satisfied, he scooted up on his bed and settled back, shoving his shorts down to his knees and settling his laptop on the bed next to him.

 

Headphones were a must, because while he _could_ listen to porn at normal volume and disturb his neighbors, Lance wasn’t that inconsiderate.  He put his earbuds in and opened an incognito google window.  There wasn’t a moment of hesitation as he typed in “gay rope bondage” and clicked the first XTUBE link that showed up.  

* * *

 

It took a little while to find something that looked fun, but he wasn’t pressed for time.  He scrolled through lazily, back propped up against his pillows and hand stroking himself to full hardness while he considered his options.  He eventually settled on a video with a boy absolutely covered in rope.

 

He had his legs tied, thighs secured to his calves and keeping his legs bent semipermanently. Another rope looped around his neck and attached to his wrists, creating a scenario that would cut off his breathing if he pulled too hard on his wrist restraints, and _fuck_ Lance would _kill_ to try that one.  To make it even better, the boy’s wrists were attached to his ankles in a hogtie, and he was blindfolded and gagged.  Totally helpless.  Lance pressed play and felt heat pooling in his belly just from anticipation.  

 

The video ran through a title screen, and then a legal screen promising that everyone in the video was at least 18 years old and consenting.   

 

He had to wonder if they had a safeword system set up, since the sub was entirely incapacitated, but God, how hot would it be if they didn’t?  Lance imagined being tied like that, imagined the dom on screen shoving his thighs apart and having absolutely no way of stopping him.  Imagined not being able to object because of scarf  jammed into his mouth and tied tight around the base of his skull.  Imagined not being able to see, just feelings hands all over him, doing whatever they wanted, just _taking_ from him.  

 

The sub on screen struggled against the restraints with little success, and Lance’s dick jumped in his hand.  He squeezed a little tighter and pumped faster, imagining being stuck like that.  Being forced to _hold still_ and not having any choice in the matter.  The dom smacked him on the ass, _hard_ , and the sub moaned.  Lance echoed him.

 

There had been a time when that would have turned him off, which was unfortunate, since it was hard to find any bondage porn that didn’t also include at least _some_ impact play.  He’d gotten over that apparently, which was strange, but Lance had learned not to question these things.  When it came to the mysteries of the peen, it was best to just go with it.

 

The porn video got down to business pretty quickly, moving from foreplay to the necessary fingering preparations.  Lance let his eyes closed and dropped his head back and let his mind wander.  First he just saw himself, tied down the way the sub was, and he imagined what that looked like, what that _felt_ like.  He imagined some of the doms he’d seen at Altea pacing around the edge of the bed, riding crop in hand, trailing it over Lance’s skin and not hitting him, just startling him.  Just making him pay attention.  He imagined being tied like that, arms and legs secured, and being manhandled.  Having someone strong, someone like…. Like Shiro, yeah, that’d work…. He imagined Shiro tying him down and hauling him into the room, throwing him haphazardly onto the bed and just pinning him.  He imagined making out, feeling someone’s mouth and hands on him, being helpless as they ground down against him.  He moaned.

 

The scene changed in his head, practically abandoning the sounds coming from the video still playing on his laptop.  He imagined making out, imagined pinning someone…. Pinning _Keith_ to the bed underneath him and just melting together.  He remembered the kiss from the party, remembered how Keith had wrapped his arms around him and pulled him impossibly closer, until they were chest to chest.  How his knees had started to ache where they’d been digging into the floor and how tight Keith’s grip was in his hair and the way he dug his fingers into Lance’s hips and could probably leave bruises if he wanted to.

 

“You’re such a good boy,” the dom said in the video, and Lance gasped from the spike of arousal that shot through him, hips jerking by their own accord.  He was close.  He was so close.  He moved his hand faster, twisting on the upstroke and rubbing his thumb over the head of his cock, and he choked back another moan and-

 

* * *

 

That was probably _the_ most inconvenient time for a skype call to come in.

 

Scrambling in heart-pounding surprise, Lance’s hand shot out to pause the video, but instead he ripped his headphones out of the aux port.  He sat up too fast and grabbed for it, but his clumsy movements knocked it off the bed and onto the floor.  Moans and cries and the sound of wet skin smacking wet skin filled the room at an unfortunate volume, mixed in with the Skype ringtone like the weirdest indie EDM song ever made.

 

“Fuck!” Lance panicked, both from the sounds that were blasting through the entire fucking hall as well as the screen declaring smugly that his mother was calling him.  He threw himself off the bed, forgetting that his ankles were tied and expecting to stand normally, and immediately smacked his face into the floor.  

 

The call kept ringing, and Lance flapped out an arm like a dead fish and smacked the lid of his laptop closed.

 

“Fuck,” he said, to the empty room and situation at large.  It kind of felt like he twisted his ankle, or at least severely chafed it.  Also there was a good chance he’d gotten a rug burn on his face.  He pressed his nose against the carpet and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath, then gathered his strength and sat up enough to put his clothes back in order and grab his cellphone off his desk, trying to find enough pride to call his mother back before she got worried.

 

He didn’t bother untying himself just yet.  He simply fell back over sideways on the floor and dialed the number.  She answered on the first ring.  

 

“I see how it is,” she said in place of ‘hello.’  “You don’t want to see your dear mother’s face.  Just want to stare at pretty college girls in the library.”

 

Lance, for the record, did not stare at Keith in the library.  Much.  He pressed his hand over his eyes and groaned.  “Mama, _stop_.  Hunk’s using my laptop right now.”

 

She made a clicking sound with her tongue.  “Then _he_ can answer my call and I’ll talk to him.  You brought him home for Easter.  He’s family.”

 

Lance rolled his eyes as a smile broke out over his face.  “I’ll let him know.  So what’s up?”

 

Lance’s mother sighed loudly and wistfully through the phone.  Anyone who accused Lance of inheriting his personality from his mother was 100% correct.  “Oh, how I’ve missed your voice, sweetheart,” she said.  Lance’s chest felt warm.  “You won’t believe what your papa did the other day-”

 

Lance grinned and settled back to listen to her story.  Inconvenient timing or no, he appreciated the call.  Even if she had killed the mood.

 

Literally killed it. Smashed it with a hammer.  Destroyed it beyond repair.

 

Even if it did feel inherently wrong to talk to his mom while his legs were still bound together.

 

It didn’t matter how great college was, how much he loved the city and all the freedom he had now that he wasn’t under his family’s watchful eye.  Whenever he wasn’t distracting himself too well, he was ridiculously homesick sometimes.  Phone calls from his mom, about trivial family drama that didn’t matter and would be forgotten by tomorrow morning, with the noise of his little siblings and cousins playing in the background made it easier.  Just a little.

 

He almost didn't mind being interrupted.

 

Almost.

 

…

 

Keith ran into Hunk in the cafeteria.  Literally.  He’d been walking back to the table he’d claimed in the corner, full bowl of cereal clutched in his hands with the very last remnants of soy milk from the machine poured into it.  He’d had his head down and his earbuds in and his mind on an episode of House he’d fallen asleep watching last night.  It was entirely his own fault.  He hadn’t been watching where he was going at all, and then he’d walked smack into someone tall and solid and upended his Cocoa Puffs all over himself.

 

He fumbled for his bowl as the other person yelped and spun around, but he wasn’t fast enough and it fell with an obnoxious clatter to the floor between their feet.  

 

He gaped down at what _used_ to be a bowl of cereal, then up at Hunk.  Then he rubbed his face with one hand and yanked his earbuds out with the other.

 

“Shit, sorry, I-”

 

“Oh man, hang tight,” Hunk interrupted, and then walked away.  Keith watched him go, mouth still hanging open, then sighed and stooped down to deal with his mess.  There was cereal _everywhere_ , and his shirt was _soaked_ with imitation dairy product for not the first time this semester.  

 

He had to wonder what he did to piss off the universe as he scooped up cereal with his hands and dumped it back in the bowl.  

 

“Here, let me.”  Hunk reappeared and crouched down next to Keith.  He mopped up the cereal with a wad of napkins, and when those were ruined he dropped them into the bowl in Keith’s hands and pulled reinforcements out of his back pocket.

 

“Oh…” Keith said, feeling kind of useless just watching him, but too surprised to move.  He could feel the eyes of the whole cafeteria burning into the back of his neck, and he kind of wanted to run away and go hide.  Hunk looked up at him and grinned.

 

“Thanks…” Keith remembered to say.  

 

Hunk smiled wider and pushed up from the floor.  Most of the cereal was cleaned up, spare a mysterious wet smudge of the linoleum and a few puffs that had rolled too far away to bother chasing down.  He plucked the bowl from Keith’s hands and said, “No problem.  Hey, you sitting down already?  I just got here.”  

 

Keith blinked a few times, following after Hunk as he headed to the dish return area.  “Um,” he said dumbly.  “Oh, yeah, I…. I have a table in the corner.”

 

“Can I join you?” Hunk asked, looking hopeful.  Keith had been kind of eager to spend lunch alone and get some quiet time between classes, but it’s not like he could say no when Hunk was being so nice to him.

 

“Sure,” he said.  “Yeah, okay.”  

 

Hunk clapped him on the shoulder and announced that he was going to find ‘something edible in this dump’ before wandering off.  Keith blinked again, taking a moment, then turned on heel and went back to the cereal.  That was the last of the soy milk, all over the floor, but his heart was set on Cocoa Puffs.  He’d just have to risk it.  There was no other way.

 

Hunk joined him at the table a few minutes later with something that didn’t look like it could have possibly come from the cafeteria.  It was some sort of complicated salad concoction.  Keith suddenly felt unhealthy about the cereal and juice in front of him, but that didn’t stop him from shoving a spoonful of cereal in his mouth anyways.

 

They made normal small talk about majors and classes and program requirements.

 

“Mechanical engineering?” Keith asked, mouth falling open.  “Damn….”

 

“It’s not that impressive.  Pidge is a double major- biochemistry and computer science.  She’s some sort of kid genius.  She’s taking, like, twenty-one credits this semester,” Hunk said.  He stabbed a suspiciously green bean shaped thing and stuck it in his mouth.  Keith was going to have to go look at the salad bar later and figure out what the hell Hunk was eating.

 

“No wonder she’s so mean,” he said, then realized that insulting people’s friends wasn’t an ‘okay’ thing to do with strangers.  He clamped his mouth shut and scrambled for an apology, but Hunk pressed a hand over his mouth and laughed.

 

“She’s not that bad once you get to know her,” he said, smiling and shaking his head.  “She’s just weird about strangers.  It’s not personal.”

 

Keith raised his eyebrows and asked, “It’s not?”

 

Hunk shook his head again.  He stabbed another bean.  They were seriously neon green.  It was unsettling.  “Nah, she was just messing with Lance.  You’re an easy target.”

 

“Thank you?” Keith asked, really not sure what that was supposed to mean.

 

Hunk shrugged.  “Lance said you did karate,” he mentioned, voice casual.

 

“Taekwondo.”

 

Hunk nodded a bit and set his fork down.  He popped his knuckles, one fist curling around the other, and said, “That’s cool.  I did varsity wrestling all four years of high school.” He glanced up at Keith, and there was something off-putting in his expression when he did so.  “Y’know, Lance is a nice guy.”

 

Nice was one word for it, Keith supposed.  He nodded.  “Sure….”

 

“He hasn’t had the best luck with dating.  Someone fucked him up pretty bad last year.”  Keith felt second-hand embarrassment at the statement, like Hunk was telling him something he wasn’t supposed to be.  He chewed at a chapped part of his lip and glanced away.  When he looked back, Hunk levelled him with a glare.

 

“I don’t have to worry about that with you.  Do I?”  

 

Keith realized very quickly exactly which conversation they were having.  He sputtered, trying to find words as his face heated up.  “N-no,” he forced out.  “No, that’s not- we aren’t even… I wouldn’t.”

 

“You wouldn’t hurt him?” Hunk asked, raising an eyebrow.  And well, Keith couldn’t promise _that_.  He could try and promise only to hurt Lance if he wanted him to, but… Keith couldn’t promise that either.  People were fucked up.  Relationships fell apart, people left, and people hurt each other all the time.  He couldn’t say what was going to happen.

 

What was he talking about?  Nothing was happening at all!

 

“Of course not,” he said.  “I….”

 

And just like that, Hunk’s expression changed again.  He smiled and reached across the table to pat Keith on the shoulder.  “Good,” he said.  “Because trust me, man, if you think Pidge is scary now, just wait until you make Lance cry.”

 

Keith didn’t want to think about anything in that scenario.  “Why would I make Lance cry?”

 

Hunk waved the comment away with the wave of his hand.  “Lance makes himself cry like once a week.”

 

That information didn’t help Keith feel any more at ease.  In fact, the whole conversation felt like a tilt-a-whirl.  Keith would have to muddle through it after class, at work when he had nothing better to do.  He was half-tempted to call Shiro and ask his advice on it, but the mocking that would come from that was worse than any amount of confusion Keith could suffer through.  Keith’s friends were maybe worse than Lance’s.  Maybe.

 

“I’m getting cookies, you want?” Hunk offered, and okay, Lance’s friends were kind of great.  Terrifying, yes, but still kind of cool.  Keith didn’t know if this was something he’d have to get used to, but maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing ever if he did.

  


…

 

Lance showed his ID to the doorman, forked over the five dollar entry fee, and stepped inside the dimly lit Altea main room.  He stuffed his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t fidget too much and stepped out of the way of the doorway, looking around for someone he recognized.  It was nice to know people at these events now, and sure, he didn’t know them well, but he knew people’s names.  People knew his name.  It was refreshing.  He felt a little bit less like a stranger.

 

The place was already as busy as it usually got, since he’d arrived almost an hour into the evening.  There were people on the stage doing something that looked like needle play, and Lance felt himself shudder.  Yeah, no.  Not for him.

 

He directed his attention far far away from the scene on stage and surveyed the room.  After a few seconds he spotted Shiro and Allura at a table in the corner, and he considered going over and saying hi, but they looked pretty absorbed in the conversation they were having.  Lance remembered what Keith had told him about those two -yes, he did remember things from that night, thank you.  Shut up, Pidge, stop laughing- and he studied them for a second.

 

Shiro had his head ducked and was leaning in close to Allura, listening intently to whatever she was saying.  It could be hard to hear over the music.  They were both keeping their hands to themselves, and nothing about their body language spoke of any sort of dynamic.  In fact, nothing about Shiro screamed ‘submissive.’  Lance didn’t get it.   _Shiro? Really?_ There wasn’t a chance in hell.

 

Lance pulled his eyes away before they caught him staring, and he spotted Keith in the crowd almost immediately.  He was leaning back against the wall opposite Lance, arms crossed over his chest and chin tilted up to talk to someone a great deal taller than him.  The guy was taller than everyone else there, towering and intimidating.  Lance watched him wave his hand around as he talked, his hand practically the size of Keith’s entire head.  He said something.  Keith grinned and nodded.  Lance sighed and tried to decide what to do.

 

He was considering going over to the bar and getting himself a soda, just to have something to _do_ , but then Keith caught his eye from across the club and waved a little shyly.  Lance waved back, suddenly smiling, and told himself to stop being such an idiot.

 

Keith said something to the tall guy he was talking about and nodded before walking across the floor, weaving between people carefully and materializing in front of Lance.  

 

“Hey!” he called over the music.  “Didn’t think you’d make it tonight.”

 

“Missed the first bus,” Lance explained.  He nodded his head at the stage and asked, “What are they doing?”

 

Keith, to Lance’s relief, wrinkled his nose up as he said, “Needles.”  Lance wasn’t sure what he’d do if Keith was into that.  Be disappointed, probably.  He didn’t know if that was something he could cope with.  

 

“Gross….”

 

Keith shrugged.  “Not my thing.”  He shifted around a little bit, the both of the silent as Lance considered what to add to the conversation.  Keith glanced back up at him through his hair and hooked a thumb towards the bar.  “Do you want a soda or something?”

 

Lance couldn’t help but tease.  “Y’know, I’m kind of into you fetching me drinks all the time.”  He leaned in and batted his eyelashes at him.  Keith hit him with a flat expression.

 

“Nevermind,” he said.  “Get it yourself.”

 

Lance did get it himself, and he brought Keith one too as they settled down in a booth near the back, tucked in next to the bar and far enough from the sound system that they could have a conversation without shouting at each other.  Apparently Keith couldn’t read lips.  What the hell.

 

It was easier to talk where they’d relocated, though, and the conversation unfolded naturally.  It started when Lance pressed one of the cans against the back of Keith’s neck, trying to startle him, before handing it over, and Keith laughed and said, “Heh.  Ice play.”

 

Now Lance was slamming his open palms on the booth table and shouting, “ _No way!”_

 

Keith twisted his mouth up and shrugged one shoulder.  “Yes way?” he asked.  “Like, not the cutting part.  I don’t think I’d be into that.  But knifeplay itself would be cool.  The amount of trust that goes into that….”

 

“You’d trust someone enough to let them drag a knife over your skin?” Lance asked, mouth hanging open.  Keith looked at him again and shrugged.

 

“I mean… yeah?”

 

“Huh….”

 

“It’s not that much of a stretch.  I already trust Shiro not to knock me out and kidnap me when we play.  I trusted you not to drug my drink just now.”  He picked his soda up and waved it a little before lifting it to his mouth and taking a sip.  Lance watched his throat move as he swallowed.  

 

“The can was sealed.”

 

“Shit happens.”  

 

Trying not to dwell on the fact that Keith apparently trusted him, at least a tiny bit, even if he’d been joking, Lance focused on the other part of his statement.  “Wait,” he said.  “You and Shiro do scenes a lot?”

 

Keith caught his bottom lip between his teeth and fiddled with his soda can.  “Yeah, I guess.  Just, like, y’know.  Sometimes.  It's just a thing we do.”

 

“Have you done stuff with anyone else?” Lance asked, curious.  He propped his elbows on the table and leaned his chin on his hands.  Keith glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow.

 

“I played with Allura a couple times,” he said like it was the most casual thing in the world.  Like Allura wasn’t the hottest woman Lance had ever laid eyes on.  If he got the chance to do a scene with her he might _die_.

 

“What about you?” Keith asked.  “Ever play with anyone?”

 

Lance cringed as a reflex and said, “Eh….”  Keith’s face turned curious, and Lance sighed and ran his hand through his hair.  “Once,” he said.  “It… it kind of sucked, not gonna lie.”

 

Keith frowned sympathetically, which was something Lance didn’t know he could _do_ , and leaned forward on his elbows as well, matching Lance.  “What happened?” he asked.  Lance felt his stomach squirm in embarrassment and averted his eyes to the wall.

 

“Um…” he started.  “It…  It just didn’t… I-”

 

“Hey.”  Keith’s hand knocked into his own, and Lance glanced back at him.  “It’s alright,” he said.  “You don’t have to talk about it.  That question was personal.  Sorry.”

 

Lance shook his head and leaned back in his seat, propping one foot against the opposite bench seat and sighing.  “I just wish I could do _something_ , y’know?” he said.  “I’ve been here for a year now and I’ve only done _one_ thing and it _sucked_.”  

 

Keith’s mouth twisted into a sly grin and he chuckled.  Lance narrowed his eyes at him, but Keith ignored him, instead casting his gaze down and drumming his fingers on the table.  “If you wanted….” he started to say, but he paused when his voice cracked on the last word and cleared his throat.  He looked back up and made eye contact with Lance, and the whole thing felt far more intimate than it had any right to be.  “If you wanted to try a scene again, I could…. We could do something.  If you want.”

 

Lance’s breath caught in his chest. He coughed, and Keith looked startled.  “Wait,” he said.  “Really?”

 

Keith chewed on his lip and played with his soda can again, eyes falling to the table.  “Sure,” he said.  “If you want.  Why not?  I don’t get to top much, but like, it’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing.  You’re into rope, right?  I’ve taken all the knot classes, so….”

 

“Yes,” Lance blurted out.  “Yes, I… um, I mean.”

 

“You want to?” Keith asked.  

 

“Dude, like I’m going to say no?”

 

Keith laughed at that, leaning back in his seat as well and crossing his arms over his chest.  “Cool,” he said.  He peeked up at Lance and grinned.  “Cool, okay, I…. Look, I’m not used to leading negotiations, but…. We’ll talk about it.  Yeah?”

Keith looked so awkward, so out of his element, and it was totally endearing.  Watching him now, Lance had a hard time imagining Keith topping _anybody_ , but hey, maybe he was wrong.  He really hoped he was wrong.

 

“Yeah,” he answered, then put on a smirk.  “I mean, if you think you can handle it.  I’m _kind of_ a power bottom.”  

 

Keith’s eyes narrowed as his own lip corners turned up, and his expression was devilish.  He was the perfect picture of ‘the boy your mama warned you about,’ and Lance felt his heart skip a beat.  “Guess we’ll have to see,” Keith said.

 

Lance felt, very suddenly, like he was standing at the edge of a cliff.  Refusing to let himself falter, he stared Keith down and said, “Guess so,” in the same playful tone of voice.  Keith maintained eye contact, picked up his soda, and took a long sip.  Lance felt his mouth go dry and swallowed hard.  Keith just grinned.

 

They were interrupted by Shiro standing at the end of the table knocking his fist against the wood surface, apparently popping in out of nowhere.  “Need a ride?” he asked, then paused as Keith and Lance tore themselves from their staring contest to look up at him.  “What are you doing?” he asked.

 

Keith kept his face perfectly blank and voice flat as he answered, “Your mom.”  

 

A laugh bubbled out of Lance before he could stop it, too surprised by that response to react properly.  He only laughed harder as Shiro made an offended noise and reached for Keith.

 

“What was that?” Shiro asked, grabbing for Keith.  Keith yelped -honest to God _yelped_ \- and shoved himself back in his booth, pulling his feet up on the seat and tucking into the corner.  Lance just laughed louder, and it only got worse when Shiro latched onto Keith’s ankle and pulled him feet first out of the booth, then leaned down and threw Keith effortlessly over his shoulder in one smooth movement.  

 

“Hey!” Keith protested, laughing as well.  He kicked his legs and clung onto the back of Shiro’s shirt.  “Shiro!”

 

The few people left in Altea -it was pretty empty, and the time on Lance’s phone said it was nearly eleven.  They’d been there way longer than he’d thought, holy shit- found the display just as funny as Lance had.  Someone, the tall guy wearing mostly leather _everything_ , stuck two fingers in his lip and whistled.  Keith looked up, smile lighting up his entire face, and flipped him off.  

 

Shiro looked back at Lance and asked, “You comin’?”

 

Lance scrambled out of the booth and followed Shiro into the parking lot, where Shiro finally put Keith back on his feet and ruffled his hair.  Keith shot him a playful scowl.  Shiro grinned back at himself, looking pretty proud of himself in a ‘we both know who won this round’ sort of way.  

 

“And here I said I trusted you not to kidnap me,” Keith complained as Shiro unlocked the car and popped the driver’s side door open.

 

He said, “Get in the robot, Shinji,” which was some sort of inside joke that Lance didn’t understand, but it had Keith barely holding back laughter as he climbed into the passenger seat.  Lance got situated in the back, and he tried not to feel left out as he listened to Shiro and Keith’s easy banter during the drive back to campus.  

 

It had been an honest mistake to think they were dating, honestly.  Lance still wasn’t sure what was going on there.  If they weren’t together, what the fuck were they?  He’d get his chance to ask, he figured, if he stuck around long enough.

  
Keith had just offered him a scene.  It wasn’t like he planned on going anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tl;dr- Lance ties himself up and jerks off watching porn and thinking about kinky sex.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lance looked up at Keith with a cheeky grin. 'You drew a smiley face next to ‘caning’,' he noted. Keith scowled and tugged the papers away, stuffing them into his math book and resting his elbows on it to keep it closed.
> 
> 'That’s it, privilege lost,' he said. 'Fill out your checklist.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: bondage

When Keith showed up at the library that following Wednesday afternoon, about an hour after the bio lab they’d had earlier that morning, the first thing he did was throw a packet of papers onto their usual table.  Lance picked his head up -he’d been bent over his notebook dutifully sketching a comic about Pidge’s hair coming to life and developing it’s own mind. Long story. Don’t ask- and peeked at the papers as Keith threw himself into the seat next to him and dropped his head on the table. 

 

Lance threw him a sly expression and raised an eyebrow.  “Alright, I’ll bite.  What is it?” 

 

“Checklist,” Keith murmured against the table.  “I have math homework to do.  Fill that out, and we’ll compare notes.” 

 

Lance picked the papers up and looked over the front page, eyes growing wide as they scanned over it.  He dropped it back onto the table, scandalized, and shot Keith a look. 

 

“Are you  _ serious _ ?” he snapped. 

 

Keith picked his head up and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands.  “Um.  Yeah.” 

 

“We’re in the  _ library _ .” 

 

Keith peeked out from behind his eyes and levelled Lance with a bored expression.  His voice was flat as he said, “Well if you’re too shy to fill it out here, I guess you can do it later.”  He shrugged one shoulder in a devil-may-care sort of way and flipped idly through the pages of his math book.  

 

Lance wasn’t one to turn down a dare unless his mother was watching.  He twisted his mouth up in frustration and pulled the list close.  “I didn’t say  _ that _ ,” he grumbled, and God, why did Lance have to have a crush on someone so frustrating?  “So I just… fill it out?” 

 

Keith sighed and leaned down, head nearly brushing Lance’s shoulder as he dug in the bag on the floor between them, and pulled out a similar bundle of papers a few seconds later.  This one had more wear to it, and it had scribbles on it in two different colors of ink and some pencil marks.  It had obviously been well loved.  Keith slapped it down on the table and leaned into it.  Lance leaned in too, close enough that he could feel Keith’s breath against his cheek when he sighed, like he was being put upon or something.  

 

“So if I’ve done something, I marked it over here,” he said, poking the page.  “If I want to do something, I checked this box.  If there’s something I didn’t like, or something I’d never be willing to try, I marked ‘no.’” 

 

Lance looked up at Keith with a cheeky grin.  “You drew a smiley face next to ‘caning’,” he noted.  Keith scowled and tugged the papers away, stuffing them into his math book and resting his elbows on it to keep it closed. 

 

“That’s it, privilege lost,” he said.  “Fill out your checklist.” 

 

Lance thumbed through the pages.  This thing was as long as his intro to education syllabus, and  _ that _ thing was impressive.  Full class schedule, assignment descriptions, and everything.  “Isn’t this kind of… extensive?” 

 

“A lot of it won’t apply to you.  Just… try it, okay?  It’ll be easier to talk through what we’re going to do if we have boundaries down on paper,” Keith said. 

 

“But why do we need  _ this many boundaries _ ?” Lance insisted.  “I mean, seriously, Keith.  We’re not going to be doing collars and corsets and cock worship in the first scene!”  He read the items off the list in order, saying the first ones that popped up.  He thought he was proving a point.  Keith didn’t look convinced. 

 

“We could,” he eventually said.  “If you wanted to…. Just, look.  I’ve never actually topped before, okay?  And I know what I’m doing.  I’m not an idiot.  I just want to have all our bases covered.”

 

“Okay, but-” 

 

“You said your first scene was bad, right?” Keith interrupted, raising both eyebrows and effectively shutting Lance up.  Oh right.  He’d told Keith about that.  Or, well… kind of.  He nodded.  “Help me make this one good, okay?” 

 

Keith was giving him a face- a face that looked pleading and exhausted and uncomfortable all at once- and shit, Lance couldn’t argue with an expression like that.  He sighed and pulled his checklist back over to him.  “Okay…” he sighed.  “Alright, fine.” 

 

Keith nodded and twirled his pencil between his fingers.  “Good.” 

 

Lance chewed on the tip of his pen and started at the top of the list.   _ What the fuck is ‘abrasion?’ _ he wondered to himself, and he drew a question mark next to it and moved on.  The next item was ‘anal sex’ and Lance laughed quietly and dropped his face into his hands.  

 

When had his life turned into this?  Reading kinky checklists in the middle of the library’s fourth floor, sitting next to the most interesting and aggravating boy at the whole university?  He didn’t know if this was a blessing or a curse.  He rubbed his eyes and got back to work.

  
  


…

  
  


They didn’t see each other again until Sunday afternoon.  Lance called out a ‘See you tomorrow, Coran!’ to his boss as he ran out the door at the end of his shift, pulling out his phone and earbuds as he did so.  There were three notifications lighting up the screen already.  The first was from Hunk, asking Lance about a bowl that was missing.  Apparently it was a special mixing bowl that Hunk needed for whatever he was trying to do in the dorm kitchen.  Lance had used it for popcorn about a week earlier and hadn’t bothered to clean it out yet.  It may or may not have been living under his desk, because let’s face it, the dried butter at the bottom was  _ gross _ and he was trying to work up the nerve to deal with it, okay? 

 

The second text was from Pidge, who’d sent a picture of a strangely shaped cactus growing outside one of the classroom buildings.  It was impressively tall and had a massive white flower at its very top.  It had been growing that flower for some time now.  The caption on the photo said, ‘ **it’s you** .’ Lance clutched a hand to his chest, gasped softly, and sent Pidge back half-a-dozen heart emojis. 

 

**Pidgeotto: I meant the trashcan next to it**

**Pidgeotto: Obviously**

 

**Say what u want, ik you love me <3 :Lancelot**

 

The third, and possibly most important, text was from Keith.  It read,  **‘hey, do you want to come over and study?’** and Lance’s heart stopped in his chest.  Because  _ yes _ , as if he was going to say  _ no. _

 

Sure, it was a request to study, but Lance had a bad habit of counting his hens before they hatched.  He’d been carrying his bundle of rope around in his backpack ever since their talk Wednesday.  Just in case. 

 

He wasn’t an idiot; he was an optimist, and today definitely looked promising.

 

It didn’t feel so promising about an hour later, when Lance was back to campus and wearing fresh deodorant and clean socks and sitting on Keith’s bed in his dorm room, sulking at an essay he’d forgotten they had to write for their biology class and feeling more than a little disappointed.

 

Keith was serious about studying, apparently, and also kind of cranky.  If Lance didn’t know any better, he’d say Keith wanted him to leave and just fuck off.  But Keith had invited him over, and bad mood or not, Lance wasn’t going to turn the guy down now.  That felt kind of like a dick thing to do. 

 

Either way, his essay was boring.  He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to come up with five hundred words on ‘how to categorize life,’ because it wasn’t like it was complicated.  Domain, kingdom, phylum and all that….  Their TA was probably looking for some in-depth analysis of the original latin, reasons for why ‘phylum’ was called ‘phylum’ and what the heck a phylum was in the first place.

 

He groaned, flopped his back against the wall Keith’s bed was tucked in against, and picked up a quick staccato rhythm, tapping his pen against the side of his laptop.  Keith looked up and frowned.   _ Again _ .  This wasn’t the first time he’d disrupted them in the last twenty minutes. 

 

“ _ Lance _ ,” Keith snapped.  Lance sighed louder. 

 

“This is  _ stupid _ ,” he complained. 

 

“Oh my God, are you ten?” 

 

“I’m a ten out of ten, yes, thank you,” Lance declared, glaring back at Keith.  Keith rolled his eyes, tipping his head back and throwing his body into it.  And what? Was being dramatic a competition now?  Lance was going to take Keith  _ down _ . 

 

“Would you just sit still and shut up for, like, half an hour?” Keith demanded, bracing a hand on the mattress between them and leaning in.  Lance froze.  Okay, so maybe  _ he _ wasn’t taking  _ Keith _ down.  Not today, at least. 

 

That being said, he saw his chance and took it.  He mirrored Keith, putting one hand next to his and leaning in until their foreheads were just inches apart.  “You gonna make me?” he asked.  

 

Because it wasn’t like they hadn’t talked about it.  Wasn’t like Keith was going to get scared and run away screaming.  They both knew what they were getting into here.  If Lance had to instigate things a little bit to get it going, then fine.  He didn’t have a problem with that. 

 

Keith’s glare faded and he searched Lance’s face for a few seconds, eyes darting around.  His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip, and he leaned back a bit.  Lance was captivated. 

 

“Are you asking what I think you’re asking?” He waited for Lance’s nod before looking away and carefully setting aside his notebook.  

 

“Okay…” he said slowly.  Lance’s stomach was full of butterflies, the slow words plucking nervous threads in his chest.  He swung his legs down, bracing one foot on the floor, and started bouncing his knee.  Keith’s eyes shot to it.  “Stop,” he said, voice sharp.  Lance stopped.  He didn’t even  _ mean _ to.  The tiniest shadow of a grin came over Keith’s face. 

 

“Safewords are green for good, yellow to pause and talk, and red to stop,” he said, climbing off the bed with cat-like grace and going to shut his window.  He locked it and closed the blinds.  Lance felt his nerves grow. 

 

“Green for good, yellow to pause, red to stop,” he repeated back.  Keith nodded.  He stopped, looked Lance over for a second, and then turned to his dresser. 

 

“Take your pants off,” he ordered.  Lance blanched. 

 

“What!? Why?” And wow, Lance, way to go.  He finally gets to hook up with dream boy and he goes asking stupid questions.  Keith didn’t seem to mind.  He looked up through the hair falling in his face and said, “They’ll get in the way.  Put these on.” 

 

Lance caught the basketball shorts that were thrown at him and tried not to let himself hyperfocus on the fact that he’d be wearing Keith’s clothes.  He got up and swapped them with his jeans, which he threw towards the corner of the room.  The shorts fit fine, just like Lance’s own would.  He sat back down and told himself not to make a big deal out of it. 

 

Keith was still digging in his drawers.  He held a tie in his hand and frowned at it, and Lance found himself blurting out, “I have rope in my backpack!” before clamping his mouth shut.  When Keith looked at him again, he looked amused. 

 

“Is that what you want?” he asked, tone teasing.  He smiled.  “Alright, fine.  Lay down.” 

 

Lance did as he was told, moving slowly with just a bit of hesitation as he kicked his feet up on the bed and eased back on his elbows.  He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Keith, who was still rooting around in his drawer and making a small pile of items on the bed near Lance’s ankles.  Lance wondered what he was doing, but he didn’t know how to ask.  

 

Instead he focused in on Keith’s ass, which was pretty great to look at from this angle, and said, “What a view.” 

 

Keith looked back over his shoulder at him.  “You’re just full of it today, aren’t you?” he asked. 

 

Lance beamed at him.  “Full of awesome.”  He may have forgotten to take his medication that morning, and it wasn’t that Lance  _ needed _ it, perse.  He was a mature adult who could function without it if he wanted to, thank you very much (although his doctor would disagree with him there…).  It was just that sitting still today was hard, focusing was harder, and controlling his mouth just wasn’t going to happen. 

 

Thankfully, Keith looked amused.  

 

He dropped the rope from Lance’s bag on top of his pile of things, and came over to stand next to Lance.  Lance grinned up at him, and Keith just planted a hand in the middle of his chest and shoved him down against the mattress.  Lance’s breath hitched. 

 

“Hands above your head,” Keith ordered.  Lance didn’t disobey, couldn’t even think about it.   His eyes grew wide as Keith climbed onto the bed, swinging one leg over Lance’s body and settling down, straddling Lance’s hips and keeping his hand firm against Lance’s chest.

 

Lance’s heart hammered away rapidly.  He stared up at Keith and ever so slowly raised his hands above his head, wrists crossed.  Keith smiled.  

 

“Good boy,” he said, quietly, under his breath.  Lance’s face heated up in an embarrassed blush.  He kind of regretted marking ‘praise kink’ on the checklist Keith had given him.  It wasn’t that he didn’t have one -his praise kink was three blocks wide and ten miles high- it was just that it might actually kill him.  

 

“What are you….” Keith’s hands trailed up both his arms and squeezed when they reached his wrists, causing Lance’s mind to go absolutely blank and his words to dry up on his tongue. 

 

“I’m going to tie you down,” Keith told him, reaching back and pulling the bundle of rope out from behind him.  “And I’m going to make you sit still and shut up for a while.”

 

“O-okay…” Lance murmured.  Keith grinned at him all devious-like and shook the rope out over the side of the bed.  He found the middle, doubled it up, and started at that end as he wrapped the rope around both of Lance’s wrists.  Lance’s skin felt electric everywhere Keith was touching him.  The gentle brushes of his fingertips against the sensitive skin on Lance’s inner forearms had him suppressing shivers, and he had to wonder when he got so damn sensitive.  It was nicely contrasted by the warm, solid weight that came from having Keith straddling his middle and leaning over him to tie his wrists up.  His t-shirt was loose enough to hang low by Lance’s face, and Lance could smell the laundry detergent he used.  He smiled just a little bit. 

 

“Someone looks pretty pleased with himself,” Keith said.  Lance stuck his tongue out at him. 

 

The rope tightened snugly around Lance’s wrists, and he couldn’t see what Keith was doing, but it felt like both were wrapped individually as well as tied together.  Keith ran his finger under the ropes, checking that they weren’t too tight and making Lance actually shiver this time from the sensation.  Keith laughed.  Lance closed his eyes.

 

His arms were tugged up a little farther, until his knuckles tapped the wall behind the headboard.  The beds their university provided had a wooden and metal frame.  Both ends were made of slatted wood, which was convenient if you and your roommate turned your beds into bunk beds and needed a ladder, or if you needed to tie someone down to it.  There were many functions.  Lance was grateful.

 

His wrists were aptly fastened to the headboard, tied down with just enough room to shift a bit, but not enough room to wiggle.  When Keith sat back, both hands splayed on Lance’s chest, warm through his t-shirt, Lance gave an experimental tug at his wrists to see if he could get them free.

 

He couldn’t.  They barely budged. 

 

“I was going to tug your ankles too, but I think wrists is enough this time,” Keith said.  “The shorts will keep you from overheating, at least.” 

 

“Overheating?” Lance asked. 

 

Keith said, “Sh.” 

 

Lance shook his head, and Keith pulled the tie from earlier out from behind his back.  He held it up between both hands and asked, “Can I blindfold you?” 

 

Lance’s breath caught in his throat, dick jumping just from the  _ suggestion _ , and  _ fuck _ , Lance had so many ideas about blindfolds.  Keith had to have noticed, because he was smirking like the devil again.  Lance cleared his throat. 

 

“Yeah,” he said.  “Yeah, dude, go for it.” 

 

Keith’s hands were ridiculously gentle as the smoothed the tie over his eyes and threaded it back around his head, making a simple knot and tightening it at the base of his skull.  Lance wondered if he was always this gentle.  He wondered what Keith felt like when he was being rough, if he  _ could _ be rough.  God, Lance hoped that was an option. 

 

He rolled his head side to side against the mattress and hummed contentedly. 

 

“Can you see?” Keith asked. 

 

“No.” 

 

“Good.  Stay here.” 

 

As if Lance had a choice.  He was a little disappointed when Keith rolled off the bed and left him without the comforting weight pinning him down.  He shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable against the bed and just settle in.  He wondered what Keith was doing, what Keith was going to do next.  Then he heard the tell-tale tapping of fingers striking a keyboard, and his head snapped towards the noise.  He scowled. 

 

“What are you doing?” he demanded.  He couldn’t see Keith’s response, of course, but he imagined him looking back with that ‘not quite innocent’ look on his face.  His hair was falling in his eyes, no doubt, and Lance would give just about anything to braid it and get it out his face for once.  The typing stalled. 

 

Keith answered, “Working on my essay,” like it wasn’t a big deal at all. 

 

Lance scoffed.  “What?” he asked.  “No!  Get back here.” 

 

“I said I was going to tie you up,” Keith answered simply.  “Not that I was going to do anything.”  

 

Lance shifted impatiently against the bed again, feeling irritated and kind of like he was going to float away like a balloon.  “But… no, wait, yellow,” he said, remembering the words he had available to him.  “Can you come, like… work on your essay over here?  It’s weird… not being able to see you….”

 

Keith didn’t answer, but just seconds later something touched the top of Lance’s head and he flinched.  “Shhh….” Keith’s hand smoothed his hair back and his lips pressed against Lance’s forehead in a chaste kiss.  That felt way more intimate than it conceivably should have.  Lance’s breath stuttered out of him.  He was definitely blushing this time.   

 

“I’ll stick close,” he said, and the mattress dipped as he climbed onto the bed again, settling into the space between Lance and the wall and shifting around until he got comfortable.  Lance still felt floaty, like his body was too light.  He squirmed. 

 

He needed a distraction.  “Want to make out?” he asked, trying to waggle his eyebrows at Keith before realizing the blindfold blocked that pretty well.  Keith didn’t say anything at first, but Lance could imagine the flat expression.  

 

“That’s it,” Keith said, after a long pause.  “I’m gagging you.” 

 

The mattress shifted again, and then Keith’s knee was bumping against Lance’s side and his finger was tapping against Lance’s lips.  

 

“Open,” he said.  Lance debated doing so.  “New rule.  If you need to speak, tap your knuckles on the wall.”  His hand was cold when it wrapped around Lance’s wrist and knocked his hand gently back against the drywall, showing him how.  “Otherwise, you’re sitting still and shutting up, just like I promised.” 

 

Keith’s voice did weird things to Lance’s insides when he said things like that.  Things that were kind of like a threat and kind of like a promise, but mostly just a stated fact.  He opened his mouth and let Keith settle whatever fabric thing it was between his teeth.  He wondered what it was, and he wanted to ask, but well… he couldn’t talk.  He couldn’t say anything.  It wasn’t an option. 

 

Huh. 

 

Whatever it was, he hoped it was sanitary.  He shifted impatiently against the bed again, trying to stop feeling too big for his skin and settle down.  It was hard.  Energy was bubbling in his chest and threatening to pour out of him, and that was battling with the way the pressure around his wrists, the way he couldn’t really move his arms even if he wanted to, had him feeling grounded and secure.

 

The blindfold made him feel a weird mix between vulnerable and sleepy, and the gag, well….  Lance had a lot of feelings.

 

He also felt Keith shifting around, and then there was a gentle pressure against his chest and a hand running through his hair again.  It took Lance a long time to figure out what Keith was doing, how he was situated, but eventually he moved in a way that bumped the heel of his foot against Lance’s ribcage.  He had to be sitting with his back to the wall, legs draped over Lance’s chest, close enough to run his hand through Lance’s hair.  

 

“I’m reading next week’s bio chapter.  Want me to read it to you?” he offered, voice a quiet hum over the chortling of the air conditioning in the background, the rumbling of traffic outside the window, the noise of people walking around in the dorm hall and of the blankets rustling when Lance shifted against the bed.  He could hear a lot of things like this, when he had no choice but to listen and pay attention.  He didn’t want to hear about biology, though, despite how quickly his biology textbook relaxed him and put him to sleep.  It wasn’t exactly sexy.  Not that this was sexy, not really. This was… something else.  It was nice.

 

He hummed around the makeshift gag in his mouth and shook his head.  

 

Keith ran his hand through his hair again.  “Alright,” he said.  “You still good?” 

 

Lance shot him a thumbs up, and he nuzzled his head against Keith’s hand, welcoming all the petting and attention he was getting.  Keith chuckled, the noise a low rumble in his throat that caused interest to stir in the pit of Lance’s stomach again, but he tried not to think about that.  He shifted around, getting comfortable, and put all of his attention into Keith’s hand roaming over him.  It pet soothing patterns in his hair, scritched his fingernails against Lance’s scalp and over his ears.  It smoothed over his forehead and pushed his hair back, callouses just a little scratchy, and it tickled when he slid his fingertips down Lance’s arm, all the way to his chest, just barely touching.  

 

He started to hum as his fingertips teased over Lance’s throat, and Lance tilted his head back to let him.  He’d shut his eyes behind the blindfold at one point, relaxing and figuring it was useless to keep them open.  Keith made a happy sound and brushed his thumb over Lance’s adam’s apple.  His fingers returned to Lance’s hair, and his mind started to slow down more, easing from what was normally a constant buzzing, and going very peacefully blank. 

 

Some time later, Lance couldn’t tell you how long it was, Keith’s fingers tapped gently against his jaw.  Lance opened his mouth a bit wider automatically, and even after Keith pulled the gag away and brushed his thumb over Lance’s lips, Lance didn’t have a single thing to say.  He closed his mouth, relaxed back again, and focused on the hand in his hair, the rope around his wrists, and the pressure across his chest.  

 

It was surprisingly easy to breathe.

  
  
  


…

  
  


Keith sat on the bed next to Lance, both of them with their legs now dangling over the edge of the bed.  His thigh was warm where it was pressed against Lance’s, and his hair tickled Keith’s neck a bit a bit where Lance’s head was lolled onto his shoulder.  He rubbed gentle circles into the soft parts of Lance’s wrists and admired the indents in the skin against the bony parts.  Lance’s hands were cold, but he said they weren’t numb.  Keith had only kept him tied like that for a little over half an hour.  

 

Even so, Lance had gotten really into it.  More into it than Keith expected him to. 

 

He wanted to double check anyways, since people could be hard to read sometimes.  Keith hadn’t topped before.  He didn’t want to get this wrong.  “How was that for you?” he asked.  Lance hummed quietly, and Keith felt his eyelashes flutter as he blinked his eyes open.  He was humming a lot, ever since they’d started, a soft, gentle sound spilling out from between his lips and making Keith melt just a little.  It was a welcomed change from his usual smart mouthing. 

 

“Good,” Lance murmured eventually.  He picked his head up and rolled his neck around.  “I feel weird…” he mumbled.  “Like that time I got high with Jaime, but less dizzy.  Like I just took a nap or something.” 

 

“You  _ did _ just take a nap,” he pointed out.  

 

“A bondage nap,” Lance replied.  “It was  _ awesome _ .  I haven’t felt that relaxed in a while, dude.”  Keith’s apprehension loosened in his chest and he smiled.  

 

“Good,” he said.  “Awesome.  I was worried it was boring.” 

 

Lance tilted his head back onto Keith’s shoulder and beamed up at him with the cheesiest expression ever. He said, “Nothing with rope is boring,” and Keith chuckled. 

 

“Sure.” 

 

“You can be a little rougher next time, though,” Lance added.  “Just… if there is a next time.  I don’t mind being shoved around, y’know.” 

 

Well wasn’t that a fucking relief.  Keith grinned, excited at that news, and knocked his knee against Lance’s.  “Next time,” he said.  “I didn’t want to push it.” 

 

“You did good.” 

 

“Thanks.” 

 

“It’d be hard to throw someone around on a twin bed anyways,” Lance added, stretching his arms out and knocking one into the wall.  They were pretty cramped in the dorm room, which was one of the reasons Keith had only done the little he did.  The last thing he needed was Lance knocking his head into the wall or rolling off the bed and getting a concussion.  Explaining that at the emergency room would be fun. 

 

He’d probably end up calling Shiro for a ride to the hospital.  God knows they couldn’t afford an ambulance, and he didn’t really want to inflict that on a lyft driver. 

 

“So there’s going to be a next time?” Lance asked, looking at him hopefully.  

 

Keith didn’t know what was wrong with him, but he couldn’t stop the way his cheeks heated up.  He rubbed at the back of his neck and looked down at the floor.  “Yeah, if you… I mean, I’d like that….” 

 

He glanced up at Lance and found him grinning.  He grinned back.  “We can try other stuff too, y’know. Whatever you want to try.  I don’t have that many hard limits.” 

 

“Yeah, I  _ know _ . I read your list, remember?” Lance teased.  Keith bit the inside of his cheek and blushed worse.  Lance dropped his head back onto Keith’s shoulder, and started drumming his fingers against his knee. 

 

“We should play at a party sometime,” Keith said, idea popping to mind like a lightbulb.  “Allura said someone is hosting on in a couple of weeks.  We’d have more room to move around and try things.” 

 

Lance tilted his head and looked up at him again.  “A party?  Like a play party?” 

 

Keith nodded.  “There would be people watching, but-” and he caught the way Lance’s face instantly lit up like a christmas tree.  He smiled.  “But it looks like  _ that’s _ not a problem.” 

 

Lance laughed bashfully.  “I, um…  yeah.” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“Okay then.” 

 

They stayed there for a moment, just resting against each other in silence.  Eventually Lance yawned and pulled himself away, pushing to his feet and stretching his arms over his head.  “Okay,” he said.  “You can walk me back to my dorm room now.” 

 

Keith raised an eyebrow.  “Oh,  _ can _ I?” he asked.  Lance grinned back at him, cheeky attitude back full force. 

 

“Yep.  Come on.” 

 

Keith rolled his eyes, but he also stood up and started coiling the rope Lance had brought into a neat bundle.  It was kind of rough, not exactly skin friendly, and it didn’t have a lot of stretch to it.  Keith might just look for something better next time he was near a hardware store.  Something with  _ cotton _ , not shiny strands of tinsel woven in.  

 

Once the rope was tied and tucked away in Lance’s bag, Keith grabbed his room key and followed Lance out into the hallway.  It wasn’t a long trip to Lance’s room, just down the hall and up two flights of stairs.  They were there within a couple of minutes, and Lance paused outside the door without opening it. 

 

“So, um…” he said, his cheeks and ear decorated with a rosy blush and eyes darting nervously.  Keith gazed back, eyebrows raised expectantly as he waited for him to go on.  He didn’t know what had Lance so nervous all of a sudden, but he understood a little better after Lance caught him off guard, leaning in and pressing their mouths together in a chaste kiss.  He pulled away almost instantly, before Keith even had time to respond. 

 

“Thanks,” Lance said, then unlocked his door and slipped inside, shutting it firmly behind him.  Keith stayed there, a little dazed, until he heard Pidge’s voice inside. 

 

_ “Was that lover boy?” _ she asked.  Keith took a few steps back, then turned and quickly made his way back to his own dorm room.  

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “'Fine,' she relented. 'But I’m watching you, Keith Kogane. I know where you sleep. I know your laptop password.'
> 
> Keith nodded mutely, and he watched with wide eyes as Pidge headed towards their dorm building and slammed the door behind her."
> 
> THE REAL CHAPTER TEN

"Good news, fuckers!" Pidge yelled, bursting in through the door of their shared bathroom and making as much noise as possible.  Lance thought for a moment that someone that small shouldn't possibly be able to make that noise.  Then he thought back to home, to his younger siblings and cousins and nieces and nephews, and he remembered just how wrong he was. 

 

Pidge threw out a casual "Oh, hey Keith," in a single breath, not slowing at all as she crossed the room to Hunk's bed and clambered up on top of it.  She stood with her fists on her hips like Superman. 

 

"Shoes off the bed," Hunk complained, eyes glued to the model he was constructing at his desk.  Pidge toed her shoes off and kicked them across the room.  Lance ducked. Keith didn't move from his spot on Lance's bed, head lolling against Lance's thigh, eyes on his phone. 

 

"What's the news, Pigeon?" Lance asked, already hyped up for it.  He had a feeling he knew where this was going, and it was bound to be good, judging my the grin Pidge was wearing. 

 

"Two things," she announced.  "We hit the jackpot. One, I got the car till Friday." 

 

Lance threw his hands up and whooped, kicking his feet as well and making Keith glare up at him and readjust.  Hunk even looked up from his model to grin. 

 

"Second," Pidge said, holding up two fingers.  "Matt's hooking me up this weekend. We are in business!" 

 

Hunk's smile fell immediately off his face as he sighed, "Oh no....". Not that Lance was concerned. He was too busy cheering. 

 

"Pidge, you're a king among men!" he shouted. "Love of my life. How did you do it?" 

 

The smirk that spread across Pidge's lips was nothing less than menacing. "Black mail," she said. "Let's just say that Dad never has to find out exactly what put that nasty virus on the home computer." 

 

"Oh my God," Lance said, hand pressed over his mouth, holding back guffaws of pure joy.  Even Hunk was grinning again. Keith sat up and leaned back against the wall. 

 

"What was it?" he asked. 

 

Lance wrinkled his nose up and shoved at Keith's shoulder. "Ew, dude, no you don't just ask that!" 

 

"Was it porn?" Keith asked. 

 

Lance couldn't help but groan loudly and fall over sideways, burying his face in his pillow because apparently Keith had no shame whatsoever. You don't just ask that! It was pretty obvious. 

 

Lance glanced up sideways to see Pidge, surprisingly, shake her head. "Piratebay," she answered.  "He was trying to download a Taylor Swift album." 

 

"Oh my God," Hunk said this time. 

 

"Why didn't he just rip it off youtube?" Lance asked, which was the real question here. 

 

Pidge answered, "My brother is an idiot," which was funny, considering her brother was on track to finish his PhD program next year at the ripe age of twenty-two.

 

Keith asked, "You can do that?" pulling Lance's attention right back to the conversation, as he, Hunk, and Pidge all let out outraged shrieks at the same time. 

 

Hunk stood up and grabbed his laptop, and Pidge launched herself off his bed. "Your boyfriend is from the dark ages," she said, plopping down between them and taking the laptop from Hunk. "Time to educate you."

 

And if Lance had been paying attention, he would have noticed how absolutely silent Keith had become.  Not that Keith was very loud to begin with, but this was a purposeful, still silence that could be poked with a stick, it was almost so tangible. Lance would have noticed if he wasn't too busy remembering how to breathe.  It felt like his face was on fire, he must have been blushing so bad. 

 

Because Pidge liked to say those things like they were no big deal, and Lance liked to pretend he believed them sometimes, but he wasn't so enchanted that he forgot reality.  He and Keith weren't anything special, just friends with weird benefits.  They weren't boyfriends or anything Pidge was implying.  Lance had kissed Keith (twice now!) and Keith had never even mentioned the second kiss, seemed to be pretending it hadn't happened. 

 

Lance didn't know whether to step back or push harder. At least there was this weekend to look forward to.  Pidge, annoying as she was, had gotten them a hookup, and that was exactly what Lance needed right about then. 

  
  
  


...

  
There was something about being at Denny's at two in the morning that made you forget you lived in Las Vegas.  Keith had a feeling that it was just some sort of Denny's magic- that all of these 24/7 diners were the same, unsettling constant at all hours of the day and all across the country, despite which city they were in.  A Las Vegas Denny's wouldn't be any weirder than an Oklahoma Denny's, especially not at two in the morning.  That was just how it was. 

 

Even with this, a guy across the restaurant who kept eying Keith up and down still managed to make it weird.

 

“Okay,” Shiro sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.  He looked exhausted, but that was entirely his own fault anyways.  “Explain to me why this is a big deal again?” 

 

Keith glared at him and crossed his arms, leaning back in his booth seat.  He might have been pouting a little, but it was two a.m., and the less sleep he had, the harder those things were to control.  He slouched in his booth a bit, until his knee knocked with Shiro’s under the table, and he echoed Shiro’s sigh. 

 

“It just  _ is _ , Shiro,” he complained, because seriously, how could Shiro not get this?  It was a big deal.  Shiro was kind of useless sometimes. “I just….” He pushed himself up and fidgeted with his coffee cup, which was still too hot to drink.  He squirmed in his seat, and then thought distinctly of Lance -wriggling around on his bed with his wrists bound and that stupid smug look on his face.  He thought about the way Lance melted against him when he finally let him up, of the playful smile on his lips when they talked about it, of the way he practically vibrated when he asked when they could do it again, and… God, he was fucked. 

 

“I don’t know what he wants from me,” Keith finally whined, bracing his elbows on the table and dropping his head into his hands.  Shiro’s hand was warm where it patted him heavily on the shoulder. 

 

“Young love is adorable,” he teased.  Keith growled.

 

“Shut up.  You’re just as young and stupid as we are,” Keith grumbled.   Shiro squeezed his shoulder. 

 

“I’ve got six years on you, kiddo,” Shiro said.  “Why don’t you just talk to him?  What do you mean you ‘don’t know what he wants from you’?” 

 

Keith whined again, an injured noise coming from the back of his throat, and pressed his hands tighter against his eyes.  Oh well.  When Shiro dragged him out at two a.m. for pancakes, he could deal with the aftermath that was Keith being a total disaster.  Keith had been falling asleep at his desk when Shiro called anyways.  He couldn't expect Keith to be fully functioning.

 

“I can’t just  _ ask _ him,” Keith argued.  “What if he doesn’t think anything’s going on?” 

 

“Is anything going on?” Shiro asked, voice even like this was the simplest problem in the world. 

 

It wasn’t.  Keith snapped, “I don’t know!  For fuck’s sake, I’ve tied him to my bed once and now his friends are acting like we’re a  _ thing _ !” 

 

In a fit of unfortunate timing, Keith picked his head up and noticed their waitress standing next to their table, blinking down at them blankly.  Keith felt his face heat up in embarrassment while Shiro smiled at her politely.  “That was fast,” he said.  “Thank you.”  She disappeared quickly back to the kitchen after setting down Keith’s hashbrowns and Shiro’s obnoxious amount of pancakes.  Keith stabbed at his food grumpily, and Shiro spread his napkin on his lap. 

 

“Okay,” he said. “So, what?  You guys made out at that party, and you’ve done one scene, right?” He poured syrup over his food and raised an eyebrow.  Keith pushed his potatoes around his plate. 

 

“And he kissed me…” he confessed quietly, eyes on the table.  “In the hallway after the scene.” 

 

Shiro actually, genuinely, looked surprised.  “Oh, that’s new.”  It was hard to surprise him.  Keith gave himself a mental high five. 

 

“Uh huh.” 

 

“So one scene, one kiss, and one drunken makeout session.  Now he’s visiting you at work, and you’re hanging out in each other’s dorm rooms, and you’ve met his friends.” 

 

Keith shrugged one shoulder.  He could feel himself blushing again, and he felt ridiculous.  Shiro made it sound stupid. “It’s only been a week since the scene we did….” 

 

Shiro sighed again, rolled his eyes good naturedly, and poked at his pancakes.  “I really don’t see what the big deal is here, bud.” 

 

Keith couldn’t manage to suppress a cringe as he drilled his eyes into his food.  “I just… I’ve never done this before, okay?  I don’t know what I’m doing.”  That wasn’t something he talked about a lot.  It wasn’t something he got the chance to talk about a lot, and he’d never thought to talk about it with  _ Shiro _ , who was a real adult who’d Done Things and had actual problems to deal with.  Keith was a little surprised when Shiro’s hand came and rested over his own on the greasy Denny’s table. 

 

“Hey,” he said.  “Deep breaths.  One day at a time, right?” 

 

Keith found himself meeting Shiro’s eye and nodding.  “Right.”  Shiro grinned. 

 

“Anything else happen?” 

 

Keith finally took a bite of his food and gazed off into the distance as he thought.  “I may have invited him to the play party next week.” 

 

“That’ll be fun.”

 

“Is that cool?” Keith asked, hoping it didn’t come off as rude that he was inviting Lance to someone else’s party.  He didn’t quite remember who was hosting it this time, but it wasn’t like that mattered, anyways.  It wasn’t his house.  He had to be polite about these things. 

 

Luckily, Shiro shrugged.  “So long as you behave yourselves, it shouldn’t be a problem.  Thace likes you.  Keeps talking about asking you to do a knife scene one of these days.” 

 

At those words, every anxious thought about the Lance situation flew directly out of Keith’s head.  He’d tackle them again on a different day.   _ This _ was news. “You’re joking!” 

 

“You should message him about it.” 

 

“Holy shit!” Keith yelped. 

 

It was like Christmas come early.  He didn’t even care about the creepy guy leering at him from across the restaurant (when Keith glanced over again, the guy said, "That's right, I'm looking at you, sweetheart," and winked.  Keith wanted to go take a shower).  He had Shiro with him anyways, and if having an ex-military gym bro as his security guard didn’t put him at ease, nothing ever would.

  
  
  
  


...

  
  


Keith was able to hear Lance’s music through his headphones, which was how Keith knew that Lance had been listening to the song Bad Things on repeat for the past twenty minutes.  Keith didn’t have anything against the song, but for the love of God, would it kill Lance to change it?  As great as Machine Gun Kelly was, Keith could only take so much.  It was starting to get on his nerves. 

 

Besides, if Keith could hear it, Pidge could hear it.  Keith wasn’t very paranoid about keeping his sex life (or… not-sex life?  Kind-of-sex life?) a secret, but he didn’t go around telling people either.  He knew Lance kept those kinds of things closer to the belt.  Pidge was a smart kid.  If she was subjected to the lyrics “If you only knew the bad things I liked…” another dozen times or so, she’d piece it together her own damn self. 

 

The song faded out and then started up again.  Lance bobbed his head along to the music.  Keith clenched his jaw and tried to keep from snapping. 

 

He wasn’t in the greatest mood ever.  It was mostly because he was tired (which was his own damn fault, yes, he knew that.  If he wanted to stay out at Denny’s until four a.m., he had to face the consequences later), but it was also because of their stupid homework.  Keith was confused, and whenever he asked, Lance wasn’t taking it seriously. 

 

Honestly balancing equations shouldn’t be this damn hard.  It  _ wasn’t _ this damn hard.  Keith had gotten through this just fine in high school.  He’d passed chemistry with a C probably, but hey, he’d passed, and he’d known how to solve a fucking equation.

 

“I seriously don’t get this,” Keith grumbled, hoping that sheer desperation was the hint he needed to throw at Lance’s face to get his attention.  It didn’t work on Pidge, who made a grumpy ‘hm’ noise under their breath and kept on clacking on their keyboard like a madman.  That noise was also starting to drive him crazy, a constant  _ taptaptap _ ing on his nerves.  He’d probably had a bit too much coffee that day.  He was getting all shaky. 

 

“Lance,” he tried again, nudging the boy next to him.  He  _ knew _ Lance could hear him.  He only had one earbud in, and he wasn’t even focusing very hard on his own assignment.

 

Lance sat up straight with a sigh and rolled his eyes for all the world to see.  “What, mullet?  Can’t do it yourself?”  Normally Keith didn’t mind this kind of goading (or, okay, yeah he did.  But usually it felt at least kind of playful).  Today he just wanted to smack him. 

 

Keith gritted his teeth and swallowed his pride.  “No.  I can’t.” 

 

“It’s seriously not that hard,” Lance said, rolling his eyes again and acting like  _ Keith _ was the bother in this stituation. 

 

“This whole tutoring thing was  _ your idea _ ,” Keith pointed out, shooting Lance a glare.  “So maybe you could, oh I don’t know, tutor me?” 

 

“We’ve already run through these problems a dozen times.  You  _ know _ how to do them,” Lance argued back.  Nevertheless, the grabbed Keith’s lab manual and yanked it across the table towards himself to take a look. 

 

They hadn’t gone through it a dozen times.  They’d gone through it three times, which sure, maybe that was a bit much at this point, but it obviously wasn’t enough since Keith still couldn’t do the stupid problem correctly. 

 

“Where are you getting messed up?” Lance asked him, eyes scanning the page.  Keith felt his eye twitch.  Yeah, definitely too much coffee. 

 

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t need your help,” he ground out.  Lance pulled a face and shook his head, eyes still on the paper.  Keith felt his patience snap. 

 

“Never mind,” he bit out.  “Fuck it.  I’ll do it myself.” 

 

“Thought you couldn’t do it, pretty boy,” Lance teased.  Keith grabbed onto his manual and moved to pull it back to his side of the table.  Lance grabbed onto the other half and yanked back when he tried. 

 

“Give it back,” Keith snapped. 

 

“No,” Lance argued.  “I’m helping.” 

 

Keith couldn’t hold back his scoff.  “As if.  All you ever do is sit there any doodle.  Some tutor you are.” 

 

“I’d tutor you if you asked questions,” Lance said.  “All you do is glare at your homework and bite my head off whenever I try to help you!” 

 

It was pretty obvious that Lance’s mood had shifted from teasing to irritated, and Keith could feel this situation tumbling downwards like a snowball.  He had no way of stopping it.  His patience was already shot. 

 

“Because you’re never any help anyways!” he snapped, smacking a hand down on the table.  Pidge’s laptop jumped and she finally glanced up.  “You’d think we’re not even in the same class, you don’t make any sense!” 

 

“Not my fault you’re a shitty student!” Lance said, smacking his own hand down and leaning in across the table.  Keith glowered at him.  His hands were trembling, and he was so angry he was breathing deeply, like he’d been working out or something.  This was ridiculous.  

 

There wasn’t any stopping it though. 

 

He yelled back, “Not my fault you’re the worst teacher ever!” which was kind of lame, as far as insults went.  Keith definitely had better.  It struck home with Lance though, apparently.  His eyes grew wide, and they got suspiciously glassy as he stared silently back at Keith, expression hard.  Keith thought they were going to stare each other down forever, but then Lance’s bottom lip quivered slightly.  

 

He caught it under his teeth and snapped, “Fuck you.”  Then he was shoving back from the table, throwing himself out of his chair, and storming off across the library towards the staircase a few yards away. 

 

Keith blinked after him, anger still buzzing across his nerves but tampered by confusion.  He hadn’t said anything that mean.  It was just a normal argument.  What the hell was Lance’s problem?  He’d looked like he was about to cry. 

 

He’d nearly forgotten Pidge was studying with them until she spoke, voice so dangerous it was practically wielding knives.  “You’re a dick,” she said. 

 

Keith didn’t understand.  “I-”

 

Pidge didn’t give him the chance to ask.  “He’s an education major, asshole,” she snapped.  “And he works ten times harder than any of us.” 

 

“He-” Keith tried again, not even sure what he was going to say.  Pidge shut him up with a finger jabbed towards his face. 

 

“Check yourself.”  She shoved his laptop into her backpack and threw it over her shoulder, then grabbed Lance’s bag as well and stormed away from the table, thundering off like a train and acting as if the combined weight of half a dozen textbooks didn’t bother her. 

 

Keith watched her go and let what she’d said sink in.  

 

Well… shit. 

  
  
  


…

  
  


**Help :Cherrybob-omb**

**Shiro :Cherrybob-omb**

**I fucked up :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Corny-beef: did you lose your key card again?**

 

**No :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Corny-beef: microwave another spoon?**

 

**No! :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Corny-beef: put caffeine pills in your coffee again?**

 

**Shiro stfu this is serious :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Corny-beef: drama queen.  Are you okay?**

 

**I’m an idiot :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Corny-beef: Glad to hear you admit it**

**Corny-beef: What did you do?**

 

**How do I apologize to Lance? :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Corny-beef: oh boy**

 

**Pls help :Cherrybob-omb**

  
  


…

  
  


Lance knew he was being ridiculous.  He’d known it wouldn’t take Pidge long to find him, too.  The tables outside their dorm hall didn’t exactly make a great hiding place.  It would have been better to go hole up in his room, but Hunk should have been home from class by now, and Lance didn’t want to hear it.  Hunk was a great guy, a total sweetheart, his best bro- but Lance just didn’t want to hear it. 

 

He was hearing it from Pidge anyways.  “He didn’t mean it.” 

 

“Yeah he did.” 

 

“No, he didn’t, and it’s not true anyways,” Pidge argued, voice carrying all the vehemence in the world.  She scowled at him.  He moped at the ground. 

 

Yeah, he was moping.  Like he’d said.  He knew he was being ridiculous. 

 

“Yeah, when the person you’re teaching tells you you’re a bad teacher, it doesn’t mean anything at all,” Lance grumbled.  Pidge knocked her head against his shoulder.  She had her arm around him, wrapping him up the best she could, even though she was tiny.  It was nice.  Gave him space, even if Lance didn’t deserve hugs at the moment. 

 

“What am I even doing here, Katie?” he sighed, and buried his face in his hands because he felt like he was going to start crying again.  

 

Which was  _ ridiculous _ , and he needed to get a hold of himself.  It was just…  he’d worked so hard to get there.  He was working his ass off in his classes, applying for every scholarship he could get his hands on and getting denied again and again.  He knew, at the end of the day, that he was mediocre at best.  Besides, plenty of people went to college to be teachers.  You didn’t have to be any good. 

 

What if Lance wasn’t any good at it?  What if this was all a big waste?  What if he’d gotten everything wrong and- 

 

“I’ve changed my major four times,” Pidge said, running her fingers through his hair and calming him ever so slightly.  “You think I don’t know how you feel?” 

 

“Yeah, but you’re good at  _ everything _ .” 

 

“You’re good at stuff too, if you’d just let yourself admit it.  He’s full of shit, okay?  Don’t listen to him- oh.” 

 

Her hand stilled in his hair and pulled away.  Lance frowned and rubbed at his eyes before picking his head up to see what caught her attention.  

 

Oh, speak of the devil. 

 

“Took you long enough,” Pidge said, face blank and voice deadpan.  “You here to fight me, punk?” 

 

Lance sighed.  “Pidge-” 

 

“Can we have a moment alone, please?” Keith asked, shifting from foot to foot and looking incredibly uncomfortable.  It would have been kind of endearing, if Lance wasn’t mad at him. 

 

Pidge narrowed her eyes.  Lance was almost certain she was going to make a, ‘I don’t know, _can_ _you_?’ joke.  Instead she said, “I don’t know.  You going to keep being a dick?” 

 

Keith immediately scowled, and he opened his mouth to defend himself.  Lance didn’t want to hear him and Pidge get into it.  He nudged Pidge in the side with his elbow and said, “It’s cool.” 

 

She leveled her glare on Lance and asked, “Is it?” as she crawled down from their perch on the table top and hauled her backpack up off the ground.  “Fine,” she relented.  “But I’m watching you, Keith Kogane.  I know where you sleep.  I know your laptop password.” 

 

Keith nodded mutely, and he watched with wide eyes as Pidge headed towards their dorm building and slammed the door behind her.  After watching for a few seconds, as if making sure she wasn’t going to come right back out and challenge him to a fight, he looked back to Lance.  

 

Lance crossed his arms and looked away.  Keith squirmed again. 

 

“Um…” he started.  His voice cracked.  He cleared his throat.  “Does she actually know my laptop password?” he eventually asked.  Lance crossed his arms tighter and very purposefully was  _ not _ amused. 

 

“You’re an asshole,” he replied, and heard Keith sigh. 

 

“Remember the first time we met?” Keith asked, apparently all over the place with the random questions.  Lance glanced up at him grumpily and raised an eyebrow. 

 

“You mean when I watched Shiro beat your ass onstage at Altea?” Lance offered, feeling his face heat up in a blush just from saying it.  “You offering to recreate that now?” 

 

Keith’s face twisted into a wry smile, and his cheeks actually turned a bit pink.  He actually had the decency to look ashamed of himself.  Ha.  Good. 

 

“I was actually thinking of that time in our bio lab, when you spilled coffee all over me.”  

 

Lance did  _ not _ spill coffee all over Keith.  Keith had ran into  _ him _ and spilled his own coffee all over his own damn self.  Lance didn’t feel like pointing that out though.  He nodded.  Keith held the coffee out. 

 

“Go ahead and throw it at me, if you want,” he said.  “Or you could, like, drink it.  I made it how you like.” 

 

Keith knew his coffee order.  Lance was  _ not _ impressed, not even a little.  He narrowed his eyes at Keith and slowly reached out to take the cup from his hand.  It was still warm, and the air was carrying a slight chill that came with Las Vegas Novembers.  He wrapped both hands around the paper cup and held it up to his face. 

 

“Thanks…” he muttered against the plastic. 

 

“Can I sit?” Keith asked, motioning to the empty table space next to him.  Lance shrugged, didn’t say anything.  Keith came over and sat down.  Their thighs were nearly touching.  Lance tried not to think about it. 

 

“I didn’t know you were an education major,” Keith finally said, after several long moments of not saying anything. 

 

“Wouldn’t have mattered,” Lance replied sulkily.  “I’m a shitty teacher anyways.” 

 

Keith frowned and looked over at him.  Lance didn’t look back.  “No, you’re not,” Keith said.  “Just… look.  I get frustrated really easily, okay?  I’m used to doing things on my own, and I don’t work well with others.   But I shouldn’t have said that to you.” 

 

“Why did you?” Lance asked, solely for the sake of being stubborn and watching Keith squirm.  Sure enough, Keith shifted a bit, looking away and pressing his lips tight together.  He reached up and tugged his hair loose from the hair tie holding it back, then pushed it back out of his face again. 

 

“I was embarrassed,” he finally answered, like it was painful just to say it.  “I don’t like looking stupid.” 

 

“You’re not stupid,” Lance replied immediately. 

 

Keith glanced at him again.  “Neither are you.” he said.  “I’m sorry.” 

 

That was the apology Lance had been waiting for.  He gave in and let himself lean over into Keith’s space, resting his head on Keith’s shoulder and bumping their knees together.  Keith stayed still and let him.  He leaned his head to the side and resting his cheek on the top of Lance’s head.  “I didn’t think it would hurt your feelings,” Keith said.  “It’s been a long day.” 

 

“It just… got to me.  I don’t know.” 

 

“You live with two geniuses,” Keith replied.  “Can’t be hard to feel inferior there.” 

 

Lance chuckled.  That was part of it.  He didn’t want to get into it.  “Either way, I could have been more helpful,” he confessed with a sigh.  “You want to go inside and try those equations again?” 

 

Keith pulled away with a groan and threw himself back on the table, crossing his arms over his eyes and sighing.  Lance let himself stare a little too long at the skin that was exposed on Keith’s stomach, between his waistband and his t-shirt. It looked stupidly soft.  Lance wanted to touch it. 

 

“Not today,” Keith answered.  “I need a break.” 

 

And just like that, Lance had an idea.  “Hey,” he said.  “Get down with us on Friday!” 

 

Keith moved his arms away and looked up at Lance like he was speaking another language.  “Get… down…?” he asked slowly.  Lance nodded.  Keith frowned. 

 

“Pidge got a hook-up,” Lance explained, but Keith didn’t look any more enlightened.  He just stared at Lance for a few more seconds before sitting up and nodding.  

 

“Sure…” he said.  “I guess so?” 

 

“Awesome!  It’ll be lit.”  

 

Keith tilted his head to the side again and frowned.  “Lit?” he asked.

 

“You’ll see.” 

  
  


…

  
  


“You’ve  _ never _ played this before?” Lance demanded, leaning across their makeshift circle on Pidge’s dorm room floor to jab Keith in the chest with his finger.  Keith frowned and batted his hand away.  

 

“No? He asked.  It wasn’t like it was a big deal.

 

Lance and Pidge thought it was a big deal.  Even Hunk looked a little scandalized, and he wasn’t even excited about this whole situation.  It was nice to have another sane person around.  Keith had nearly choked when Pidge reached into the mini fridge and pulled out two good sized bottles of what could  _ only _ be alcohol.  Lance had insisted it was fine, they wouldn’t get caught, while Pidge explained how they’d tested it already, shouting incriminating things at inappropriate hours of the night to see if any RA’s would show up to report them.  She said that even playing trap music and chanting “shots!” at three a.m. hadn’t gotten them any attention, so a few simple drinking games would be child’s play. 

 

Unfortunately, Keith didn’t know any drinking games. 

 

“Okay, we’ll start easy,” Lance announced, clapping his hands together.  “Never have I ever, first.  Then we’ll do truth, dare, drink, or sip.” 

 

“You always want to play the stripping game,” Hunk complained.  “You can just take your shirt off, you know.  Nobody’s going to stop you.”

 

“What?” Pidge asked.  “No spin the bottle this time?” 

 

Lance took a gulp out of the cup in his hand and then let it dangle between his fingers while he pointed at Pidge.  “You,” he declared.  “Are an infant.  Go kiss somebody your own size.” 

 

“This infant got you the booze, so shut the fuck up.” 

 

“Besides!  These’ll be fun again!  We have new meat!” 

 

Keith swallowed hard and tried not to worry over what that might imply.  He shouldn’t have gotten himself into this.  There were easier ways to relax than getting drunk in someone else’s dorm room.  He probably wouldn’t relax at all.  He was so keyed up with nerves he felt like he was on a live wire. 

 

“Alright,” Pidge said, rubbing her hands together and smirking.  “I’ll start.  Never have I ever-”

  
  


…

  
  


“This is not fair,” Lance complained, taking another sip and lowering another finger.  He had two left.  Hunk had four, Pidge had five, and Keith had nine.  “You’ve never done anything!” 

 

“He did that one thing!” Pidge said, pointing at Keith’s lowered finger.  “What was that thing?” 

 

“Skipped school,” Keith said.  He wiggled his finger at her.  She nodded. 

 

They were all starting to get a little fuzzy.  Not drunk, not even tipsy yet, just a little bit louder than normal. A little soft around the edges.  

 

Skipping school was something he had done, and he’d gotten in a  _ lot _ of trouble for it.  It wasn’t really something he talked about.  It wasn’t often that anyone asked. 

 

“Okay, goody-two-shoes,” Lance snapped.  “Your turn, then.” 

 

Keith swirled his mostly full cup and thought.  “Okay…  never have I ever… seen Star Wars?” 

 

“You’re kidding me!” Hunk yelped, then drank.  “None of them?” 

 

Pidge complained to Lance, “Your boyfriend is defective,” and took the tiniest of sips.  Lance just stared at him with his mouth hanging open.  Keith did his best not to squirm. 

  
  


…

  
  


“That’s a lie, Hunk, put your finger down!” Pidge yelled. 

 

Hunk shook his head and stuck his nose in the air.  “Watching Lance do it does not count as doing it.” 

 

“You were involved!” 

 

“I’m not drinking.” 

 

Pidge grumbled into her cup, “Bull shit….”

  
  
  


…

 

Lance must have thought he was awfully clever, even though he was entirely off-base.  It had taken a few seconds for Keith to catch on, trying to figure out why Lance had said this one would ‘get him for sure,’ and why he was giving Keith that weird look. 

 

Then he caught it, and he had to stop himself from laughing.

 

“Nope,” Keith said.  “I’ve never had sex with an older man.  I don’t have to drink.” 

 

Lance looked like Keith had just reached out and smacked him.  He sputtered for a moment, cheeks red and mouth hanging open.  “I- you- yes you have!” 

 

“Um, no?” 

 

Lance flapped his hands around a bit.  “But- Shiro!” he insisted.  Keith let himself grin, entirely amused. 

 

“I’ve never had sex with Shiro,” Keith said, entirely honest.  Lance flapped his hands a bit more, and when he spoke again, he was whining. 

 

“What do you guys even  _ do _ ?” he asked.

 

Pidge wrinkled her nose up. “What?” 

 

“Hey, buddy,” Hunk interrupted, setting his hand on Lance’s thigh and shooting him a  guilty expression. “Not to be that guy, but didn’t you hook up with that twenty-four year old freshman year?” 

 

Lance’s face flushed instantly red.  “What.” 

 

“Yeah!” Pidge added.  “What was his name?  Rolo?” 

 

“How do you guys know about that!?” Lance yelped, talking with his hands and sploshing his drink a bit.  “I wasn’t even out then!” 

 

Hunk glanced off to the side and took a sip of his drink.  “You guys were pretty loud…” he mumbled. 

 

“Aw, that’s cute,” Pidge said.  “Lance thinks he’s discrete.”  

 

Keith hid a snicker behind his hand.  Lance glared at him, flipped him off, and took a drink. 

  
  


…

  
  


Never have I ever got boring fast with Kieth’s lack of experience.  Lance was sure he was lying on some of those, because seriously.  Never made a prank phone call?  Never kissed someone in high school?  Never lost his mom in a grocery store?  

 

Those were all  _ classics _ .  Keith was obviously an alien, and that revelation wasn’t as enjoyable when Lance was the one getting the most drunk. 

 

It was Pidge’s idea to switch to Truth or Dare, and Lance had immediately jumped on it.  He was a truth or dare champion.  Keith was going down. 

 

It started off the way it always did.  Hunk dared Pidge to let him braid her hair.  Lance dared Hunk to do that thing where he drew a face on his stomach and made it talk.  Hunk dared Lance to try and put his entire fist in his mouth (he couldn’t, not yet, but one of these days he’d be able to, and then Hunk was going to be sorry).  

 

Keith, the loser, picked ‘truth.’  Pidge asked him, “What’s a secret talent you have?” and Lance leaned into Hunk’s side and settled in to enjoy himself. 

 

“What?” he asked.  “Like something I can do?” 

 

“Yeah.  You gotta be able to show us.  If you can’t do what you say you can, you have to drink.”  The rules were faulty, considering Lance always had to drink when he couldn’t fit his fist in his mouth (which he’d never said he could do anyways, thanks a  _ lot _ , Hunk), and considering they all drank leisurely throughout the game anyways.  The rules still stood though.  

 

Keith shrugged and said, “I can do the splits.” 

 

Hunk actually gasped.  “No!  Show us!” 

 

Keith shrugged again and stood up, then braced his hands on the floor and slid his legs out, slowly lowering himself down and resting his chin on his hands once he reached the floor.  It looked way easier than should have been possible. 

 

“See?” he said. 

 

And wow, yeah, Lance didn’t know he was into that. 

  
  


…

  
  


“That’s not even a dare!” Pidge said, pulling out her cellphone and dialing the number without looking.  “I prank call Matt all the time by my _ self _ .  You guys are lame.” 

 

“Fine!  The next one will be better.” 

  
  


…

  
  
  


Pidge’s eyes were impossibly wide as she dialed a number on Hunk’s phone and handed it back.  Hunk grinned like the devil and took it from her.  He put it on speaker phone. 

 

“Hello,” the voice on the other end said. “This is doctor Holt.” 

 

“Hello, ma’am,” Hunk said sweetly.  “Is your refridgerator running?” 

  
  
  


…

  
  


“No!” Lance announced, grabbing the bottle of vodka out of Pidge’s hand and pouring a good amount into his cup.  “No, no, no way.  I’m not prank calling my mom, I’m taking the penalty.” 

 

“What’s wrong, Lance?” Keith asked, smirking.  He was starting to feel brave from the alcohol.  Starting to let go a little.  “Scared of your own mother?”

 

Lance’s eyes grew comically wide.  “You’re not scared of  _ yours _ ?” he demanded. 

 

Keith didn’t think about what he was saying as he answered.  “Not really.  I’ve never met her.”  He didn’t think about it afterwards, either, and he didn’t notice the sympathetic looks Hunk and Pidge were trading over his shoulder. 

  
  


…

  
  


“I dare you to download that sex dice game on your phone again and do one of the rounds on Keith,” Pidge said.  Hunk narrowed his eyes, but he was already pulling his phone out. 

 

“I hate you,” he said.  “Do I do it to him?  Or does he do it to me?” 

 

Pidge hummed and rolled her head to the side to look at Keith.  “You mind?” she asked. 

 

Keith didn’t.  He took a sip from his cup, finally accustomed to the bitter chemical taste, and shrugged.  “Yolo.” 

 

“Oh my God, you did not just say that,” Hunk said.  

 

“It’s downloading!” Lance announced.

 

“Oh my God….” 

 

Keith had theorized that the universe was out to get him before, on more than one occasion.  Well, he was just about ready to put together a cork board with evidence towards this theory when Pidge announced what the dice app on Lance’s phone had come up with.

 

One dice said an action, the other dice said a body part.  Pidge announced loudly, “Spank. Ass.” and Lance actually did a spit take with his drink.  Keith choked on his own.  Hunk looked horrified. 

 

“What?” he snatched the phone out of Pidge’s hands and looked it over.  “Why is that even an option?  The other body parts are face, ear, stomach, thigh, and genitals.  Only  _ one _ of those is….” 

 

“Spankable,” Keith supplied for him. 

 

“Yeah!” 

 

“I mean, not really…” Pidge said.  “You can hit someone on the face, right?  Stomach is fair game.  You can hit someone in the dick if they’re into that.” 

 

“What!?” Hunk demanded again. 

 

“Gently,” Pidge added, miming a patting motion.  “Like patty cake.” 

 

“Oh my God,  _ stop _ !” Lance took her wrists in his hands to stop whatever depraved hand motion she was doing.  Keith was secretly grateful.  “Hunk, do your dare.” 

 

Keith sighed and set his cup down.  “How do you want me?” he asked.

 

Hunk had apparently forgotten how to function.  He put his hand over his eyes and muttered, “Oh my God….” 

 

“Over the lap.  It’s  _ classic _ ,” Pidge decided for him.  “How many times do you hit him though?  Does the app say?” 

 

“Once!” Hunk said, snatching the phone away and turning the screen off.  “I’m only hitting him once.  Oh my God.” He looked at Keith and grimaced.  “I am  _ so _ sorry.” 

 

Keith was doing his best not to die laughing.  He didn’t know if it was the alcohol, or just the amount of time they’d spent playing this stupid game, or maybe he was finally cracking from the amount of stress he’d been under, but Keith felt stupidly brave.  He didn’t care what Lance’s friends did or did not know.  He didn’t care who knew what, secrets or no secrets.  This was a game, and this was  _ fun _ , and the look on Lance’s face from his last dare made it all worth it.

 

In the end, what Hunk did couldn’t even count as hitting him.  He still apologized anyways.  Keith reassured him that it was fine and enjoyed watching Lance trying not to be terribly embarrassed by the whole thing. 

  
  
  
  


…

  
  


“I can’t believe you guys are making me do this,” Lance complained as he clambered clumsily to his feet and scrolled through the songs on his phone.  

 

“Shut up and get shaking,” Pidge argued.  “Don’t act like you don’t love doing this.” 

 

“Yeah, man.  It’s not everyday you get to bust out Shakira,” Hunk added. 

 

They had a point.  Lance had learned an entire dance with his older sister when he was in the fourth grade.  It had been hilarious then, and it was hilarious now.  It was better now, too, since he had a better idea of what his hips were supposed to be doing and how he was supposed to be rolling his body when he did these things.  Not that he wasn't a good dancer as a kid, because shoot, dancing was in his  _ blood _ .  There’s just certain things that kids don’t understand. 

 

Lance found the song and clicked play.  He set his phone down on Pidge’s bed and struck a pose. 

 

_ “No fighting,”  _ the song said.   _ “No fighting.  No fighting.  Shakira-shakira-” _

  
  


…

  
  
  


“That’s it, I’m stripping, fuck you guys,” Lance said, peeling his shirt over his head and chucking it at the bedroom door.  It was getting too damn hot in there.

 

“Cute,” Pidge said. 

 

“You know it.” 

  
  


...

 

“What’s the biggest trouble you ever got into?” Hunk asked later that night, when they were all on the better side of intoxicated and sprawled out lazily on the floor with pillows they’d stolen from Pidge’s bed.  Pidge herself had her comforter wrapped around her like a burrito (the remnants of a dare from Lance.  She hadn’t wanted to unroll herself once he’d gotten her tucked in), and was only a face, a tuft of hair, and two sock feet poking out of a blanket at this point.  Lance was sprawled out as far as the cramped space would allow, using Hunk as a pillow.  Hunk was leaning against the wall, and Keith had tucked himself nicely into the corner made by Pidge’s desk. 

 

He hummed, took a sip, and felt his head spin happily.  “One time I ran away from the house I was ‘sposed to be staying at,” he said.  He thought back to that night, to that house, scowled and took another drink. 

 

“The house you were supposed to be staying at?” Lance asked, surprising Keith.  He’d thought Lance was asleep at this point.  Keith nodded. 

 

“Uh huh,” he said.  “Foster home.”

 

For the second time that night, he was blissfully unaware of the way they were looking at him.  He didn’t glance up at Hunk when he asked the question, “...What happened?” 

 

Keith shrugged, took another sip, and said, “Stayed in juvie for a month.  Then they moved me to another group home.” 

 

“Juvie?” Pidge asked, voice too quiet.  Why was she being so quiet?  Keith wanted to ask.  Instead he nodded. 

 

“‘Happens,” he answered.  He frowned down at his empty cup and then held it out towards Hunk, who was currently in charge of their half empty bottle of Hennessy.  The vodka was long gone.  Hunk didn’t say a word as he filled it up and passed it back over.  Keith didn’t notice.  He just took the cup from him and grinned. 

  
  


…

 

“Hunk knows how to make a bomb,” Lance said, voice mumbled and sleep lazy. 

 

“Pidge wants to try and hack the Pentagon.” 

 

“You’d go to prison,” Keith contributed, looking up backwards at her and frowning.  “Don’t do that.” 

 

“I won’t,” Pidge reassured him.  She reached out, and maybe she was trying to touch his hair, but she ended up just patting his forehead. 

 

“Keith can do karate,” Lance said. 

 

“That’s not a secret,” Keith argued. 

 

“Shut up, mullet.” 

 

“It’s not a mullet.”

 

“Shut  _ up _ , mullet.” 

 

“Make me, mister hips don’t lie!” 

 

Hunk’s hand came out of nowhere and covered Keith’s entire face, and judging by the dying parrot noises from a few feet away, he was doing the same to Lance.  Keith pressed his mouth closed and resisted the urge to bite his hand. 

 

“Shhhh,” Hunk said.  “Too late.  Too tired for arguing.” 

 

“I think it’s bedtime,” Pidge said, groaning and reaching for her glasses.  “I don’t think I can  _ move _ .” 

 

“Every time, Pidge, I swear to God,” Lance replied.  Keith sighed happily and let his eyes slip shut. 

  
  


…

  
  


In the end, Hunk had to pick Keith up off the floor and carry him next door to their own room.  Lance carried himself there with little-to-no difficulties, and Pidge picked herself up off the floor and passed out almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.  

 

Now Lance was laying in this own bed, the familiar sound of Hunk’s snoring filling the room, exhausted and saturated but unable to sleep.  Keith was using him like a body pillow. 

 

It was nice.  Actually, it was  _ amazing _ .  Keith was laying tucked in tight to his side, his head tucked in under Lance’s chin and his arm wrapped firmly around Lance’s middle.  Any time Lance shifted too much, Keith would made a quiet mewling sound and clutch at Lance’s side.  Lance may have died a little bit every time that happened. 

 

Keith also had his leg thrown over Lance’s hip, leg tucked in between both of Lance’s own.  Lance had to be very,  _ very _ careful not to move down there.  That would be awkward.  They were too drunk to face that situation. 

  
All in all, it wasn’t a _bad_ situation.  Keith was comfy and warm and Lance felt a little bit like he’d died and gone to heaven.  It took a while for his brain to shut off, consequence of both the alcohol and the boy in his bed, but after a while of staring at the ceiling Lance finally found his eyelids growing heavy as his vision danced black, and in the next few moments, he was finally asleep.


	11. Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That question made Keith freeze. Lance wasn’t asking for permission. That’s not what that was. They weren’t in any sort of situation where they would ask permission from the other. No, Lance was asking for a favor, and that was almost just as surprising."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a mess, but so am I. Part two (scene included ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) will be up Wednesday, and dudes chapter twelve is already my favorite thing in the world, and I haven't even written it yet.

…

 

 

Lance was having a bad day before the heart attack.  

 

Though he knew it wasn’t possible, Lance had to wonder if he was still hung over from their festivities on Friday.  It wasn’t a physical hangover so much as it was psychosomatic. Lance wasn’t sure he’d ever sleep peacefully again now that he knew what it felt like to share a bed with someone. 

 

Okay, not quite.  He’d shared beds with people before.  But parents, younger siblings and cousins, and  _ Pidge _ didn’t exactly count.  Sharing a bed with them wasn’t like sharing a bed with Keith, who was a perfect combination of cling wrap, a space heater, and a teddy bear.  There had been  _ cuddling _ , and they hadn’t talked about it in the morning, but it had been  _ awesome _ . 

 

Lance was trying to figure out how to make it happen again. 

 

He’d spent the night before with his arms wrapped tight around his pillow, trying to figure out how to make that happen again.  He was kind of a disaster. 

 

Anyways, Lance was tired, and Sundays were his least favorite day to work.  There wasn’t anything to  _ do _ on Sundays, especially since Coran’s unflappable work ethic made sure their restock was finished by Saturday afternoon.   Lance’s job on Sunday was uneventful- guard the counter, straighten the clothes, and occasionally clean. 

 

He’d already swept three times, and there was no way to straighten the clothes if they didn’t have any customers come in and mess them up in the first place.  It was only two p.m.  Lance was going to die. 

 

The heart attack just sped that up a little. 

 

So, he didn’t actually have a heart attack, but it sure felt like it.  He was near the back of the store, straightening a single rogue pants hanger, when a familiar voice caught his attention and caused his heart to stop. 

 

“Hello?” the voice asked, which wasn’t the scary part.  Lance had a second to think, ‘huh, where do I know her from?’ 

 

Then Coran burst out of the back room shouting, “Allura!” and Lance immediately died.  “Lance, my boy, come here and meet Allura.” 

 

Oh God.  Oh God, oh fuck, oh God. He couldn’t just say no and run, which was what he wanted to do.  Legs moving by their own volition, he made his way through the store and came to a stop at Coran’s side, face practically sizzling under the florescent lighting. 

 

Yep, that was Allura alright.  Instead of the usual garb he saw her in -because Allura  _ never _ turned down the opportunity to dress up, according to Keith- she was wearing skinny jeans, Uggs, and a pastel pink hoodie.  Her silvery-white hair was braided back over her shoulder, and she had sunglasses stuck on her head.  Lance could see the dark of her roots starting to poke through, alluding to her natural color.  He would have been fascinated if he wasn’t traumatized. 

 

“Pleasure to meet you, Lance,” Allura said, holding her hand out and shaking Lance’s.  Lance wasn’t thinking fast enough to follow whatever game they were playing.  He almost swallowed his tongue. 

 

“Um….” 

 

Coran chuckled, shooting him a coy look that was  _ definitely _ suggesting something, and Lance would have to think long and hard about that later.  He was a little preoccupied at the moment.  

 

“Don’t get any ideas,” he said, patting Lance on the back.  “I was just heading out to the grocery.  We’re out of tags again.” 

 

Allura said, “I’m sure Lance can hold down the fort.  I’ll wait around.” 

 

Coran pressed a chaste kiss to Allura’s cheek, reminding Lance of the sentiments exchanged between his own family members, before he bustled away to grab his wallet behind the counter and was darting out the door.  Lance stared after him, mouth hanging open a little and face burning.  Allura laughed quietly, probably at him. 

 

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said, sounding sincere.  Lance was still trying to figure out how his tongue worked.  “I didn’t know you worked here.  Coran mentioned a ‘Lance’ before, but I never put that together.” 

 

Lance nodded dumbly and said, “It’s a big city.” 

 

Allura grinned, patted him on the shoulder, and sauntered back behind the counter like she owned the place, perfectly at home.  Lance watched her go to the mini fridge they had hidden back there and pull out a bottle of water.  

 

“How do you know Coran?” he asked, rubbing at the back of his neck and wondering when it’d gotten so hot in there.  A kink person was at his work place.  A kink person  _ knew his boss _ .  Lance was mortified. 

 

“He and my father were together for a long time,” Allura told him, leaning her elbows on the counter and grinning.  “He helped raise my sister and I.” 

 

“Oh,” Lance replied, at a loss for words.  He’d have to tell Hunk that his theories about Coran were finally proven true.  He had validation straight from the source.  He was feeling pretty proud of that, but then of course he had to ruin it by sounding like an idiot.  He asked, “Does he know about TNG?” 

 

Allura’s answering eyebrow raise told him everything he needed to know.  “You tell your parents about it?” she asked.

 

He grinned sheepishly and laughed, “Okay, point.” 

 

Allura rolled her water bottle between her hands and regarded Lance with her head cocked to the side.  She looked younger like this, when she wasn’t dressed up in striking clothes and dramatic make-up.  She was kind of cute, which was never something Lance would say to her face. 

 

“Keith said you’re coming to the party Saturday,” she said, and somehow, for reasons Lance didn’t fully understand, he found himself blushing worse than before. 

 

“He told you about that?” he asked, voice strained. 

 

“Are you two planning on doing anything?” she asked, just as the bell on the door rang and a customer waltzed in.  Lance turned, ignoring his burning face, and greeted the woman before Allura spoke again.  “You’ll have fun,” she said.  “You don’t need to look so nervous.” 

 

Lance couldn’t help himself, though he wished for all the world that he could.  Before long Coran was returning from the store, pushing a box of blank tags into Lance’s hands and finally giving him a job to do.  He disappeared into the back room, relieved to be out of the fire, and did his best to remind himself that Allura’s presence alone wasn’t blowing his cover. 

 

Man, he couldn’t wait for his shift to be over. 

 

 

 

…

 

 

Keith was starting to wonder if he’d ever get through another work shift where he didn’t bump into someone he knew.  Initially it had just been Shiro, who would pop in from time to time when grading got to be too much and he needed either caffeine or the sweet release of death.  

 

There were people from his taekwondo club, but Keith’s awkward nature seemed to keep them from coming around too often.  He’d feel bad if he had any idea how to fix it. 

 

During his shift on Sunday, Hunk had come in.  Keith figured he was there to study or hang out in the library, but instead he ordered a drink and hung by the counter during a dead period, making small talk and keeping Keith entertained for half an hour.  Keith wasn’t sure what it was about Hunk, but talking to him just felt easy.  Through some miracle of fate the pauses in their conversations didn’t feel awkward, and Keith didn’t spend the whole social interaction wanting to bang his head into a wall.

 

It was nice. 

 

That particular Monday, however, it was Lance who was visiting him.  He came around during the end of Keith’s shift, just as the sun was starting to go down, and he walked back to the dorms with Keith after he clocked out, chattering away easily the entire way. 

 

It wasn’t until they reached his dorm room, and Keith winced while slipping his backpack off his shoulders that Lance finally dropped silent.  Lance inviting himself over was apparently a thing that happened now, not that Keith minded too much.  He had studying to get done, but the company was nice, and it was easier to let it happen than to try to kick him out anyways.  Keith turned to look at him, finding the other boy staring at him carefully, curiously.  

 

“Um…” Keith said, and caught his bottom lip between his teeth. Lance wasn’t doing anything besides staring at him with inquisitive, dinner plate eyes, and Keith knew the only way to move past this was to explain.  He could lie and say it was a pulled muscle, but what was the point of hiding these things from Lance?  He already knew anyways.  

 

“Shiro got a new flogger,” he said with a casual shrug, which rubbed the material of his t-shirt against his still tender skin.  “We tried it out yesterday.” 

 

Lance was watching like he was entranced, and he seemed to fight against the blush decorating his cheekbones as he asked, “Can I see?” 

 

Then it was Keith’s turn to feel embarrassed, but he made a point of remaining unfazed as he shrugged again and peeled his uniform shirt up over his head and turned around.  It was just his naked back.  It wasn’t a big deal.

 

“Pretty…” Lance murmured, and yeah.  They'd been beautiful immediately after, stark red marks snaking over bright pink skin, thin welts raising up in places, flesh not quite bruising.  That morning the pink had been much more subdued, but still plenty visible.  A few of the welts remained, bright pink lines decorating his back.  He hadn't looked close enough to see bruises.  It was more about the sensations than the marks, for him.  Lance might have been a different story.  Keith saw in his periphery as Lance reached forward, then quickly caught himself and drew his hand back.   
  


“Go ahead,” he told him.  “It was still a little red this morning.  Any bruising?” 

 

“A few small ones,” Lance answered, fingers cold where they traced over the skin near Keith’s shoulder blades.  “Didn’t this hurt?” he asked.

 

Keith barely suppressed a chuckle.  He picked a discarded t-shirt off his bed to replace his coffee bean attire and replied, “Not as much as you’d expect.”  The thing about floggers, about the certain type of pain that they caused, was that it barely felt like pain at all.  Keith knew there were different ones out there, ones that were made out of more than just leather, which were designed to really cause some damage.  Keith hadn’t played with those, though, and he wasn’t really looking to.  

 

The ones he’d played with were good enough- the strips of leather that caused muscle deep aches and got him lost in the rhythm of being struck.  It didn’t hurt, not really.  Without the sting to distract him, Keith felt like he could go on forever. 

 

“What does it feel like?” Lance asked.  He toed his shoes off and tossed his backpack down, pulling away and putting space between them as he settled down on Keith’s bed and held his pillow in his lap.  Keith took a minute to try and find the right words. 

 

“It’s like…  Well….” Lance waited patiently.  Keith scratched at his scalp.  His work hat was feeling too tight, but it was the only thing holding his hair in place at this point.  He desperately needed a shower.  “It’s like the best parts of getting hit,” he finally settled on.  “The pressure, and the sensation, and that, but like… less of the sting to it, y’know?” 

 

No, Lance didn’t know.  Of course he wouldn’t know.  He’d never done this before, but he paused after the explanation, fidgeting with the edge of Keith’s pillowcase and looking thoughtful. 

 

“Is it fun?” he asked. 

 

Keith found himself smirking.  “Very.” 

 

“You think I could try it sometime?” 

 

That question made Keith freeze.  Lance wasn’t asking for permission.  That’s not what that was.  They weren’t in any sort of situation where they would ask permission from the other.  No, Lance was asking for a favor, and that was almost just as surprising. 

 

“You want me… to hit you with a flogger…?” Keith asked, picking his words slowly and carefully.  Lance glanced up to meet his gaze and shrugged. 

 

“I mean… there’s that play party this weekend,” he offered weakly.  Keith crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. 

 

“I thought you didn’t like impact.”  He distinctly remembered Lance stating that, and he’d noticed some of the things marked as limits on the checklists they’d filled out.  From all the information he’d gathered, it seemed to be obvious that Lance didn’t want to be hit.  Yet here Lance was sitting in front of him, flesh and blood, and asking for exactly that. 

 

Lance shrugged again, skinny shoulders raising up and down as he drew his knees up and looped his long arms around them.  It was almost a defensive position, Keith realized, uncrossing his arms and instead sticking his hands in his pockets.  

 

“I don’t know,” Lance finally answered.  “I’d like to try it, though.” 

 

Of course he would.  Keith had just basically just described it as the best thing ever, and now Lance’s head was probably filled with false illusions

 

He wanted to find a way to explain that to Lance, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to without it turning into an argument.  They’d been friends long enough for Keith to figure out what set him off, and insinuating any sort of a challenge was the easiest way to get Lance going.  If Keith tried explaining that Lance might not like it, all Lance would hear was that Keith thought he couldn’t take it, and then there would be no changing his mind. 

 

Instead, Keith closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He opened them after a moment and said, “Alright, but we have to talk about it.” 

 

Lance grinned.  He clapped his hands.  He said, “Sure, no problem.” 

 

Then Keith said, “And I want to talk about the first scene you did,” and Lance’s face fell.

 

“Why?” he asked. 

 

“Did you guys do impact?” 

 

“Yeah….”

 

“Then I want to know.” 

 

He was expecting Lance to fight him on it more, honestly.  He was expecting him to make excuses or stretch the argument or change the subject.  During the long seconds that he stared down at the pillow in his lap, Keith stared at the wall and wondered who was going to make the first move here.  He wasn’t expecting Lance to close his eyes and start speaking, but that was exactly what he did. 

 

“I met Nyma at Altea,” he said, tone of voice like he was telling a story, eyes still shut like he was scared to open them.  “We talked on fetlife first, and then we met there.  And she was really sweet, okay?  And like, I was eighteen, and I’d… I’d never done anything like this before, y’know?  And you can read the forums and shit, sure, but that… that doesn’t… you don’t actually know what you’re doing.” 

 

He paused for a breath, and Keith took that as a cue.  He tried to sound encouraging as he said, “Uh huh….” 

 

“She was really sweet,” Lance repeated.  “But we didn’t really talk through what we were looking for, y’know?  And I guess… I guess we had different ideas.  Like we talked through it, yeah, but I was too embarrassed to actually say anything, and I didn’t know what I wanted anyways.” 

 

“What’d you guys do?” Keith asked.

 

Lance opened his eyes and swallowed visibly.  Keith was willing to bet he’d never told anyone this before, never said it outloud,  and as the seconds ticked on it became obvious Lance wasn’t going to say it.  He looked mortified, and the face he was making at the bedspread looked like he was arguing with himself.  

 

Keith cleared his throat and glanced at the wall.  “I was so embarrassed after my first scene that I locked myself in Shiro’s bathroom,” he confessed, humiliation stirring in him from the memory.  “Scared the hell out of him, but once he figured out that I was actually okay, he just sat outside the door and talked me down from it.” 

 

He glanced up to find Lance staring at him again, eyes wide and a little bit glassy.  He asked, “You locked yourself in Shiro’s bathroom…?” 

 

Keith nodded gravely.  “He threatened to kick the door down.”

 

“He could do it too,” Lance replied, offering a tiny smile.  Keith smiled back and nodded.  

 

“Not a doubt.” 

 

Lance took another deep breath, appearing to steady himself, and focused back on the pillow again before speaking.  “She had a paddle,” He finally spit out, saying the words like they hurt him.  “We… we did a lot of stuff.  She had me, like, kneel and crawl around and stuff, and that was fine.  Whatever.  I might even be into that, in a different situation, but then there was a time when she had me stay someplace, and my hands were bound behind my back and she just  _ left  _ me there, and….” 

 

“She ignored you?” Keith asked, cringing and mentally smacking himself as he thought back to the scene they’d done a short while ago.  That’d been pretty close to fucking up, hadn’t it? 

 

Lance nodded.  “It kind of sucked….” 

 

Keith let himself laugh quietly and teased, “You’re pretty hard to ignore, anyways.”

 

Lance actually looked up and smiled at him, laughing along and saying, “I’m taking that as a compliment.” 

 

“Sure, sure.”  Keith rolled his eyes.  That obviously wasn’t the whole story.  Lance had mentioned something and then went in an entirely different direction.  He asked, “What else happened?” as the laughter faded, hoping he didn’t have to bring up more embarrassing stories to milk a confession out of him.

 

Luckily, Lance had some momentum going. He shifted around some more, obviously uncomfortable. “I thought the paddling part would be fine,” he blurted out, fingers once again working quickly against Keith’s pillowcase.  He was going to wear a hole in it at this rate.  “And it was, at first I guess.  But I guess I just couldn’t take it or whatever, and…. and I don’t know, she kept going even…. it’s stupid.” 

 

Keith’s brain was slowly putting the pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle.  He blinked down at Lance as realization dawned on him and asked, “You safeworded, and she didn’t stop?”

 

“She said not to be a pussy,” Lance confessed, grimacing at himself as he did so.  “Said that I could take it if I put my mind to it, that I didn’t  _ really _ need to stop.  And I mean, she was right.  It wasn’t an emergency or anything-” 

 

“She should have stopped,” Keith interrupted.  “That wasn’t cool.” 

 

“It was just a few more minutes…” Lance muttered.

 

Keith wasn’t sure who this Nyma person was, had no idea if he’d ever run into her in the scene before, but maybe that was for the best.  Right then he had the overwhelming urge to punch her in the face.  “Safewords exist for a reason,” Keith said.  “You say them, and it stops.  That’s why they’re there.” 

 

“Yeah, but-” 

 

“She should have stopped.” 

 

Keith didn’t realize he’d been raising his voice until the silence fell over the room.  Lance glanced up at him, raising his eyebrows, the slightest grin teasing at his lips.  “I think you’re more upset about it than I was,” he said.  

 

Keith felt embarrassed for what had to have been the third time that night.  He scratched at his throat and shrugged.  “Consent is important,” he said. 

 

Lance’s grin widened.  “I know.  You’ve made that pretty clear.” 

 

“I’ll stop the moment you tell me to,” Keith added, feeling like he needed to reassure Lance of that to keep this all from falling apart.  He’d gotten pretty lucky himself, having the majority of his scenes with Shiro.  He wasn’t sure what he would have done in Lance’s place.  If someone had ignored his safeword during their first scene, well… Keith already had trust issues.  He couldn’t imagine that going over well. 

 

Lance slowly uncurled himself and climbed off of the bed.  “I know you will,” he said.  Keith rocked back on his heels, back hitting the wall and reawakening the sore spots as Lance stepped closer.  “You’re sweet like that.” 

 

Keith’s breathing definitely did not hitch.  Nope.  Not a thing that happened.

 

“Would it be alright if I kissed you again?” Lance asked.  He was too close for Keith to breathe, let alone speak.  He nodded instead, just a tiny jerk of the head.  Then Lance’s lips were against his, and Keith’s eyes were falling shut, and Keith was pretty sure he would never, ever get used to this. 

 

 

…

 

 

 

Shiro and Allura were singing along to the radio when they picked them up from campus.  It would have been the cutest thing ever, if they both weren’t terribly off-key.  Lance crawled into the backseat after Keith, buckling his seatbelt so Shiro could pull away from the sidewalk, still singing along. 

 

“ _ You watch me bleed until I can’t breathe- shaking.  Falling onto my knees _ . _ ”   _

 

Lance had heard this song before, but it took him a few seconds to place it.  “Stitches,” by Shane Whatever his name was.  

 

_ “Now that I’m without your kisses, I’ll be needing stitches.” _

 

Lance was almost certain it wasn’t supposed to be a love song, but with the way Shiro and Allura were serenading each other, you wouldn’t know any different.

 

_ “Tripping over myself, aching.  Begging you to come help,” _ they sang.  Allura reached over and pulled down the collar of his shirt ever so slightly, revealing a thin band of leather buckled around his neck.  She hooked her finger in it and smirked.  He pulled the car to a stop at the next red light, glanced over at her, and grinned as bright as the sun.  

 

_ “Just like a moth drawn to the flame…” _

 

Lance didn’t pay much more attention to their singing, because suddenly Keith was leaning in close and murmuring something in his ear.  “They don’t even do pain play,” he whispered, smiling and rolling his eyes fondly when Lance glanced over at him.

 

That information left Lance with more questions than answers, but he was hoping at least some of his questions got answered that night at the play party.  He was nervous as hell, stomach flipping over every time he thought about it, and his hands were sweating ridiculously.  He had to keep wiping them on his pants. 

 

Keith, on the other hand, looked as relaxed as could be.  Then again, anyone who was comfortable playing  _ on stage _ at  _ Altea _ probably wasn’t phased by a little play party. 

 

Shiro and Allura weren’t nervous either. In fact, they didn’t seem to be anything but ecstatic.  Lance had to just swallow his nerves and get a hold of himself, grow a pair and get over it.  It was fine.  He would be fine.  It was a party.  He  _ loved _ parties. 

 

He took a deep breath to steady himself, but he choked on it halfway through the exhale when Keith’s hand settled over his own and squeezed. 

 

“Hey,” he said quietly.  “You alright?” 

 

Shiro and Allura were still singing, changing the words slightly as they did so.  

 

_ “Got a feeling that I’m going under, but I know that I’ll make it out alive if I  _ keep _ calling you my lover…. _ ” 

 

Lance glanced over at Keith and squeezed back, using less effort than he’d expected to put a grin on.  “Yeah,” he said, taking Keith’s hand and intertwining their fingers.  Keith looked surprised, but he didn’t pull away.  Lance smiled.  “I’m great.” 

 

_ “Needle in the thread, _ ” Shiro and Allura sang, changing the words again slightly.  _ “Cannot get you outta my head.”  _

 

Keith hummed along.   _ “Needle in the thread gonna wind up dead.” _


	12. part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They hadn’t even started, and Lance wouldn’t stop trembling."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter warnings: flogging and tender boys hugs

The party wasn’t anything like Lance had expected.  It was, in a word, underwhelming. 

 

Lance had been preparing himself for something straight out of Alice Cooper’s music video for “Poison.”  Low lighting, black painted walls, concrete floors, chains hanging from the ceiling.  He’d expected leather outfits and intimidating people stalking around.  The play party had absolutely none of that. 

 

The only leather in sight seemed to be the collar around Shiro’s neck, which was apparently more for show than anything else since he and Allura weren’t  _ doing anything _ .  Allura was dressed casually in jeans and a loose plaid button up.  Her freshly dyed hair was held back in a low braid, and she looked just as relaxed and casual as she had when she’d visited Coran at his store. 

 

They were sitting close together on the couch, and occasionally Allura would reach over to stroke the band around Shiro’s neck, but besides that small gesture they were just lounging and around and having a conversation with the rest of the people at the party, who were also different than Lance had expected. 

 

For one thing, there were only about fifteen people there.  The house they were playing in was pretty small.  A small group was hanging out in the back yard, and a few people were milling around in the kitchen.  The majority was in the living room, crowded onto the couches and chairs, talking about stuff that wasn’t related to kink at all. 

 

Lance sat, stiff as a board and thrumming with nervous energy, next to Keith, who was far more relaxed than Lance had thought he could be in a crowd.  He was sitting back on the couch, grinning along with the conversation but not contributing much, which wasn’t very unusual.  Lance, who prided himself with being the  _ life _ of the party, wasn’t contributing at all.   _ That _ was unusual.  He was from a big family, and big families teach you that if you’re going to say anything, you’d better say it fast and loud, otherwise you’ll never get a word in.  He was a  _ king  _ at pushing his way into conversations, but… apparently not tonight.  Tonight he couldn’t manage a word. 

 

Keith kept reaching over and placing his hand over Lance’s knee, which kept starting up bouncing by its own accord.  Lance was trying hard to sit still, he really was.  It was just a little more than impossible. 

 

Not long into the conversation -not long into the  _ party _ \- Keith’s hand curled around Lance’s knee and he leaned in close.  His voice was quiet, but not quiet enough that most the room couldn’t hear during the lull in the conversation, as he said, “If we want some privacy, we should use the room before everyone else does.” 

 

The “room” he was referring to was the homeowner’s garage.  It was a two car space with foam mats laid out on the floor.  There was a couch crammed into one corner, and a massage table in another.  The garage also had a water cooler, a bowl of m&m’s, an assortment of candles, and a mirror mounted on the wall.  Most of it was a mystery. 

 

The guy who owned the place -Thace.  His name was Thace, and he was practically seven feet tall and wildly intimidating, and he looked like Wolverine just a little bit- had introduced it as “the dungeon.”  Lance had never imagined a dungeon to have bright blue work out mats and a purple massage table, but he also figured you had to improvise with what you had for these kinds of things. 

 

“We’re building better gear,” Thace had said.  “Got a set of stocks I’m working on.  Wanted to bring them out today, but it ain’t sanded.  Nobody needs splinters in their neck.” 

 

“Bad pain,” Shiro had agreed, nodding. 

 

Lance hadn’t been able to say anything. 

 

Keith squeezed Lance’s knee a little tighter and added, “We don’t have to.”  But he said it in a way that didn’t make Lance feel bad. 

 

He didn’t say, ‘ _ We don’t have to if you’re scared. _ ’  That was something plenty of people would have said, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t meant that.  But just the way he said it, the way he took the pressure off and gave Lance an out without making him feel weak for doing so….  Lance had to take a deep breath and remind himself to stop being a sap.  He shook his head. 

 

“Nah,” he said quietly.  “Let’s do this.” 

 

Keith took Lance’s hand and intertwined their fingers before rising to his feet.  Lance couldn’t hear past the blood rushing in his ears, but he was vaguely aware of people talking around him.  Keith asked where Shiro’s toy bag was, and Shiro said something and pointed by the doorway.  Another person called next dibs on the bench, saying they had new toy that needed breaking in. 

 

Someone else asked, “Can I watch?” and Keith’s hand squeezed Lance’s a bit tighter as he responded. 

 

“Let us warm up first.” 

 

Lance was still flabbergasted by the fact that Keith was holding his hand, and he was petrified by what they were going to do.  That didn’t stop him from holding tight to Keith’s hand and letting him lead him across the house.  He stepped into the garage after him, took a shaky breath, and set himself in determination. 

 

 

…

 

 

They hadn’t even started, and Lance wouldn’t stop trembling.  Keith had said, “Undress yourself down to your comfort level,” and now he was watching Lance peel his jeans off with shaky hands.  After tossing them onto his shoes in the corner and adding his t-shirt to the mix, he stood there in awkwardly in boxers, all long limbs and fidgety fingers, one arm over his stomach and grasping the other.  A slight tremor was running through his body. 

 

He looked so damn nervous that Keith couldn’t help himself.  He took a few steps forward and hugged him.  

 

Lance was incredibly warm, even through the t-shirt Keith was wearing.  His arm’s fit perfectly around Lance’s torso, wrapping him up snug.  He hooked his chin over Lance’s shoulder and hoped with every ounce of his being that he was helping, not just being a giant weirdo. 

 

To his relief, after a second, Lance hugged him back. 

 

“We don’t have to do this,” he reminded.  “This is supposed to be fun.” 

 

He felt Lance take a deep breath.  “I know.” 

 

“You say your word and I stop, immediately, okay?” Keith reminded.  

 

Lance nodded, and he said, “Okay,” before beginning to pull back.  Keith nodded and let him go.  He took a step back, crossed his arms over his chest, and centered himself.

 

He asked, “What are your colors?” 

 

Lance visibly gulped, and Keith had to remind himself that the scene hadn’t started yet, and it would be rude to get a hardon simply because Lance was nervous.  At least he had his jeans to cover it.  The only thing Lance was wearing was ridiculous red and blue striped boxershorts.

 

“Green for good, yellow to talk, red to stop,” he answered. 

 

There wasn’t a tremor in his voice.  Keith grinned.  He turned to the bag he had set up on the folding table behind him and pulled out the flogger they’d talked about.  He set that aside, just for a few minutes, and pulled another item out of the bag.  He turned back and held them out for Lance to see.  

 

“I want to put these on you,” he explained, holding the cuffs out in his palm.  They were padded leather, soft from use but sturdy.  Keith went on to say, “I know bondage is a big thing for you, but I don’t feel comfortable tying you up when we’ve never done this before.  This’ll feel similar, at least….” 

 

It was a shot in the dark.  Keith wasn’t used to topping.  Shiro usually took care of all the hard stuff.  All Keith had to do was state his limits and remember the safeword.  But this, with Lance?  Keith wanted this to go well.  He wanted this to be  _ perfect _ .  He was beyond relieved when Lance smiled wide and held both arms out.  

 

“Green,” he said.  “Go ahead.” 

 

Keith went to him and wrapped the cuffs around Lance’s wrists, tightening them appropriately (just a single space tighter than Keith wore them).  He tugged at them gently, then used the snap buttons on them to attach the two cuffs together.  

 

Lance spent a moment turning his arms about in front of him and looking the cuffs over.  Keith grinned and went back to the table.  He said, “Get on the bench,” and turned to see Lance’s eyes go wide. 

 

“Huh?” 

 

He motioned to the massage table next to him and patted the soft cover.  “Get on the bench,” he repeated.  “Hands and knees.”  He stopped, considered Lance’s bound hands, and asked, “Need help?” 

 

Lance gulped again and shook his head.  

 

It was pretty entertaining watching him clamber up onto the bed, all grace and coordination lost in his nerve.  He settled eventually though, crossing his ankles and shifting his hands on the bench.  He rolled his neck and then hung his head between his shoulders.  Keith waited a few moments for him to stop moving. 

 

When Lance was still, he approached the table and gently ran his hand over Lance’s back.  Lance jumped under his touch before steeling himself, but the tremor was back.  Keith petted him again.

 

“What’re your words?” Keith asked again.  

 

Lance sighed.  “Green, yellow, red,” he recited. 

 

“You can say them any time, for any reason.  Okay?” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

“You sure?” 

 

Lance looked back over his shoulder with narrowed eyes.  “Just start already!” he snapped.

 

Keith frowned and tugged sharply at a piece of Lance’s hair, causing his eyes to slip shut and his mouth to fall open.  “Be nice to the guy holding the flogger,” he said. 

 

Lance peaked on eye open and looked back at him.  “You’re not holding the flogger yet,” he said, and man, this little smart ass sure was making it tempting to hit him. 

 

Which was exactly what Keith was there to do.  He picked the flogger up, put the appropriate amount of space between them, and swung.  It connected.  Lance yelped, and Keith froze. 

 

He was struck with a wave of panic until Lance began to laugh.  “Sorry!” he said, still laughing.  “Sorry, that didn’t even hurt.  I’m just nervous.” 

 

“You’re okay?” Keith asked, heart still beating too fast.  Lance rolled his shoulders again.

 

“You barely even hit me.”  He looked back, something playful glistening in his eyes, as he asked, “You sure you know how to use this thing?” 

 

Keith scowled at the teasing, swung it down diagonally, and brought the tails down on the seat of his ass.  Lance’s breath hitched. 

 

“Better?” 

 

“Maybe.  Green.  Try it again.” 

 

Keith  _ did _ know what he was doing.  He’d watched a few videos on it and read an article he’d found online.  He’d also had Shiro teach him how to use the thing, and Shiro had made him practice flicking his wrist and beating the hell out of a pillow until his arm ached. 

 

He knew what he was doing in theory.  Practice was much,  _ much  _ different.  Pillows didn’t squirm or gasp or respond the way Lance was.  When Keith hit him a third time, just a little bit harder than he did the first two, Lance actually moaned. 

 

It was all systems go at that point.  Keith wore the heck out of him, and he adjusted what he was doing to Lance’s reactions.  Whereas Keith liked strikes fast and overwhelming, Lance seemed to like it best when they were spaced out, slow and unpredictable.  One time, a good amount of time in, he hit Lance when he wasn’t expecting.  Lance had moaned, dropped down to his elbows, and buried his face in the crook of his arm. 

 

He set the flogger down next to Lance’s knee and ran his hand over Lance’s back.  He didn’t flinch away this time, instead arching into the touch like a cat.  “You okay?” he asked.

 

Lance turned his head and shot Keith a dopey smile.  “Peachy keen.” 

 

Keith was definitely teasing him about that later.  What a dork. 

 

Keith stroked his hand down Lance’s back again, tan skin ridiculously smooth under his hand.  He rubbed over his ass too.  His boxers were rumpled but still in place.  His skin was practically radiating.   Lance whined in the back of his throat, and the sound shot straight through Keith like a bolt of lightning.  He had to pause and take a moment. 

 

“Color?” 

 

“Green.” 

 

“Lay down for me.” He pushed gently on Lance’s lower back, until Lance was laying flat on his stomach, fingers tangled together above his head, forehead resting on the bench.  Keith pet him a few more times, feeling Lance tremble under his touch and watching him worry his bottom lip between his teeth. 

 

“You ready?” 

 

“Uh huh.”

 

Keith picked the flogger back up, swung it down, and struck on the right side of Lance’s upper back.  He was careful to mind his spine and his neck, but that didn’t stop Lance from yelping in surprise (he always made more noise when he was surprised) and covering the back of his head with his hands.  That was alright.  It stuck his shoulder blades out farther.  Made for a better target. 

 

He didn’t make much noise after that, nothing louder than quiet gasps and tiny noises that seemed to barely escape his lips.  A few minutes in and Keith saw a man, who went by the name of Antok both on fetlife and in person, and Allura step into the room to watch.  Keith focused back on Lance, tried not to feel self-conscious, and ramped it up a notch. 

 

Watching Lance was fascinating.  His tan skin was slowly turning pink under the strikes, and Keith knew the marks would be more defined once they’d stopped and he had the chance to settle.  He was still squirming, like he didn’t have it in him to stay still.  When Keith checked his collar, Lance replied with impatient tone and the color ‘green,’ but his voice was groggier than it had been, and Keith was just about done.  They hadn’t gone very long, but he didn’t want to push too far. 

 

Lance dropped into subspace here the same way he had when Keith had tied him up before, which was slowly, step by step, like walking into a pool.  Keith’s own subspace had always felt more like diving over the deep end.  He needed it to build and build and build, until he was sure he couldn’t take anything else, then something would snap and send him flying back down.  

 

Lance was definitely flying, even if they got there in different ways.  Keith walked over to the table, set the flogger down, then returned to Lance’s side and pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade.  Lance giggled.  

 

“That’s enough,” Keith told him, running his fingers through the hair on the back of his head.  “C’mon, up you get.” 

 

It took him a moment, but he eventually pushed himself up and rolled over to sit up.  Immediately after sitting up, Lance was hissing in a breath through his teeth and standing, stumbling forward a bit.  Keith caught him, hands bracing on Lance’s arms.  “Careful,” he said.  

 

Lance laughed again.  He dropped his head onto Keith’s shoulder. 

 

“Shit.” 

 

“You okay?” Keith asked.  Lance seemed okay, but he couldn’t be sure.  He  _ needed _ to be sure.  Lance pressed his face into the crook of Keith’s neck and nuzzled there. 

 

“Super okay,” he answered.  Keith chuckled. He snagged Lance’s hoodie off the ground where he’d dropped it and lead Lance over to the couch in the corner.  Lance went, malleable in Keith’s hands, and he curled up on the couch when Keith pulled him down.  He shifted around, tucked his legs underneath him, and pressed closer to Keith’s side.  Keith tightened his arm around him. 

 

Antok appeared in front of them like a looming shadow, and he held down a cup of water, which Keith took graciously.  “He should drink this.” 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

Allura piped up from across the room.  “We wanted to do some wax play.  You mind?” 

 

He shook his head and pushed the water cup into Lance’s hands, only accepting it back when it was empty.  He set it on the floor and went back to running his fingers through Lance’s hair.  Lance sighed against him, trembling all but gone.

 

 

 

…

 

 

It was about ten minutes when Lance blinked his eyes open and picked his head up off Keith’s shoulder.  He pulled away a little bit, just enough to take his hoodie and pull it on, shoulders screaming in protest.  The adrenaline was seeping out of him and the air conditioning was making itself known.  He curled up in his hoodie and pressed back against Keith’s side, sore and happy.  He didn’t know those two things could go together.

 

“You good?” Keith whispered.  Allura had some guy spread out on a cot which hadn’t been there before, and she was flicking a brush over him in a way that almost seemed ritualistic.  It took Lance a few moments to realize that she was using  _ wax _ , and that the guy underneath her was flinching and jerking every so often because it was  _ hot _ . 

 

“Huh…” he said, then realized he’d forgotten to answer.  He whispered, “Sorry, what was the question?” 

 

Keith chuckled. 

 

“You okay?” 

 

Lance looked up at him and smiled.  “I’m great.” 

 

They watched for a while, and Lance was absolutely mystified by the show in front of them.  He’d heard of wax play before, and it had always sounded either too boring or too intense.  He didn’t want to be burned, but he didn’t want to be bored.  Maybe there was a happy medium. 

 

“We should try that,” he whispered.  

 

Keith bumped his head gently against Lance’s own.  “Not tonight.” 

 

Well, duh.  

 

After a while, he let Keith pull him to his feet, and he followed him through the house and back into the kitchen.  The small crowd was still there, milling around and gabbing.  Lance was feeling significantly less shy than earlier, not caring at all that he wasn’t wearing pants in a room full of strangers and not flinching away from any of the staring eyes.  

 

He didn’t feel like talking much, anyways, so he stuck close to Keith’s side as he grabbed a piece of pizza out of the box and took a bite. 

 

“Hungry?” Keith asked.  Lance just looked at him and opened his mouth, too lazy to bother getting his own.  Keith rolled his eyes and offered his own piece up for a bite, then just handed the whole thing over and got a new piece for himself. 

 

It was easier, then, to settle down in the living room.  Keith squeezed onto the couch, and Lance followed, finding himself sandwiched between him and Shiro.  Shiro shot him a friendly grin and asked, “Have fun in there?” 

 

Lance grinned, shot him a thumbs up, and slumped bonelessly against Keith’s side once again.  He was  _ exhausted _ .  Glancing back at Shiro, he was also curious. 

 

“You and Allura doing anything tonight?” he asked him.  There were at least three other conversations going on in the living room at that moment, but Shiro hadn’t seemed to be paying attention to any of them.  He shook his head. 

 

“Not tonight,” he said.  “Our play wouldn’t really work at a play party, but I don’t get a chance to wear the collar too often.” 

 

He said it like it was such a normal thing to be wearing a collar.  Hell, maybe it was.  Maybe he’d get used to this one of these days. 

 

He yawned and leaned back against the couch, feeling the sunburn-like ache of his upper back rubbing against the material of his hoodie.  Shiro reached in front of him and grabbed onto the back of Keith’s neck, shaking gently.  Lance watched with curious eyes. 

 

“Hey brat,” Shiro said.  “You didn’t break my flogger, did you?”

 

Keith laughed and ducked away from the hand.  “No way.  My bruises are finally faded from last time.  I’ll need new ones soon.” 

 

And okay, maybe there were some things Lance wasn’t going to get used to.  He reminded himself not to be jealous, reminded himself that he had no right to be jealous.  That didn’t help much, though.  It did help when Keith slouched down next to him and slipped his arm around Lance’s shoulders.  Lance felt a hand, rougher than Keith’s ruffle his hair and looked up to find Shiro.  

 

Okay, so maybe this was okay for now.  He melted into Keith’s side and told himself to be content.  Right now, blanketed by warm and the dull throb of pain and the rhythm of conversation, Lance found contentedness wasn’t too hard.  This was all he needed right now.  Anything else he’d work on later.


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Noting the way Keith was smirking, Lance redacted his previous statement. Keith wasn’t a sweetheart. He was a sadistic little jerkface who liked to watch Lance suffer. 'I hate you,' Lance complained."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for best reading experience, listen to this song before reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V-q0zSh3RvI
> 
> Also, APPARENTLY I do requests now. There's one written that'll go up sometime after this is done. But if you guys want to throw prompts at me or whatever, yolo. :)

Lance had expected to feel worse the next day.  He woke up disoriented, sweaty and a tad overheated.  He went to roll over, intending to check the time on his phone, and instead found that he couldn’t move.  Something heavy and hot was pinning him to the mattress, and upon peeling his sticky eyelids back and squinting at the ceiling, Lance discovered that it wasn’t even his mattress.  

 

“Wha-?” he grumbled in confusion.

 

The heavy thing on top of him clutched tighter and mumbled with hot breath against Lance’s neck.  “Too early.  Go back to sleep.” 

 

After a few moments of contemplation, Lance remembered stumbling back to Keith’s room last night after the party.  He’d been unreasonably exhausted -both of them had- when Shiro and Allura had dumped them off at the dorms around twelve-thirty that night.  

 

Lance had kind gotten used to hanging all over Keith, and he’d had no intention of giving that up when they’d gotten home.  

 

_ “I guess this is goodnight?”  _ Keith had asked at the door to his room.  

 

Lance quirked his head to the side and stepped closer.   _ “Or you could invite me in?”  _

 

_ “I could invite you in?” _ Keith had repeated carefully, always slow on the uptake.  But he unlocked his door and awkwardly swept his arm to the side, stepping out of the way to let Lance into his room.  There had been a slant to Lance’s voice with his proposal, definitely more intended beyond the words he’d said.  Despite that, he and Keith hadn’t done anything more than strip out of their jeans before collapsing into Keith’s bed and passing out. 

 

And now it was morning, and Lance expected to feel worse.  He shifted a little bit, testing it out, and Keith’s hands clutched tighter onto his t-shirt. 

 

“ _ Stop _ ,” he whined, pressing his nose into Lance’s neck.  It was cold, and he was so close.  Lance hissed in a breath and was vividly aware of his own morning breath.  

 

Lance found his left arm buried under Keith and the blankets, and he tugged it free so he could rub at his eyes.  “Wake up,” he said, voice croaky.  “Keith, c’mon.” 

 

“No,” Keith responded, only cuddling closer.  Apparently Keith was rather clingy in his sleep, which was adorable and a little bit sad, considering his mostly stand-off-ish nature when he was awake.  Asleep, though, both times that they’d shared a bed, Lance had found himself becoming Keith’s personal teddy bear.  Not that he was complaining or anything, but the room was feeling kind of stuffy.  And he really had to pee.  

 

“You’re worse than Pidge,” he grumbled.

 

Keith grabbed the blanket and tugged, pulling it up over his head and wapping Lance in the chin.  “My bed.  My rules.  Shut up.”

 

Lance sighed as loudly as he could manage and stroked his hand over what felt like Keith’s shoulder.  “Your rules, huh?  Kinky.” 

 

“You’re kinky,” Keith mumbled.  And yeah, apparently sleepy Keith was absolutely useless. 

 

Eventually, Lance was able to coax Keith out of bed with the promise of coffee.  It took a lot of convincing, since Keith worked at a coffee shop and all, but Lance promised to pay and even did a little bit of begging.  With time he managed to roll Keith out of bed and get him to agree to coffee.  

 

“Put some pants on,” he told Keith, playfully smacking him over his boxer shorts and making him squeak.  “Give me an hour to shower.”

 

“An hour?” Keith asked, idly rubbing at his ass.  He squinted at Lance through the curtain of hair hanging in his face, a tangled mess of bedhead.  “Okay.  So I have fifty-five more minutes to sleep.” 

 

Lance rolled his eyes and tugged his jeans on before heading out the door, holding his tennis shoes and room key in his hand.  His ass was tingling slightly, not quite  _ hurting _ , but he could definitely feel it.  It felt kind of like a sunburn, like he’d snuck out of the house before his mama could force sunscreen on him and stayed out long enough to actually get a burn.  With the halls empty and no one around to see him, he reached back to rub over his back pockets, just to see.  It awakened a burning ache in his upper back, but the soreness down south didn’t change any. 

 

He was kind of relieved.  After his scene with Nyma, Lance had bruises he’d felt every step he took for three days, and they’d taken almost two weeks to fade entirely.

 

This was different.  He didn’t have a sinking nausea hanging around with nearly unbearable aching.  He was a little sore, but he was mostly happy.  

 

He walked a little bit faster and hurried on his way to take his shower. 

 

Hunk was asleep when he got back to his room, which he counted as a small blessing as he climbed into the shower undisturbed.  They didn’t have a mirror in the bathroom, and he’d dropped his phone on his bed before going in, so he couldn’t check for marks the way he wanted to.  As it was, the hot water felt fantastic and all thought of them soon disappeared.  

 

Lance scrubbed his hands through his hair and rubbed over his face, rolling his neck and feeling it pop wonderfully.  He hummed under his breath, not wanting to wake Pidge and Hunk but unable to help himself.  Showers were meant for singing, it was practically destined by law.  He switched between several songs.  He was in a Katy Perry sort of mood that morning, and eventually settled on Waking Up in Vegas.

 

All things considered, he wasn’t in the shower for as long as he could have been.  It was only about twenty minutes later that he was stepping out and scrubbing off, shaking the water out of his hair and wrapping a towel around his waist.  There were still drops of water clinging to his eyelashes, and he blinked them away as he stepped back into his dorm room, song still on his lips. 

 

“Well lookat that, you remembered where you live,” Hunk said from his perch at his desk.  His laptop was open, a paused rpg on the screen, headphones hanging around his neck.  He looked like he’d been there for hours, even though Lance knew he’d been dead asleep only half an hour ago.  Hunk liked to use his Sundays like this, neglecting school work to catch up on gaming.  He said that if he delegated a day for it, he wouldn’t be as tempted to play when he should be studying.  Lance wasn’t so sure about that.

 

“Hardee har,” he said sarcastically.  “You’re hilarious.  Get that line from your dad?” 

 

“He’d have a few more things to say to me if I stayed out all night,” Hunk replied, but his voice was kind and he shrugged permissively.  Lance was certain that one of the reasons his parents didn’t worry about him too much was because he had Hunk as a roommate.  It was basically like having a third parent, or a full time babysitter.  “Have fun?” 

 

Lance couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face.  “Oh yeah.” 

 

Hunk glanced over again and raised an eyebrow.  “Oh yeah?  What happened?” 

 

It was Lance’s turn to shrug, coy smile playing at his lips as he turned to his dresser and pulled out clothes for the day.  He still had Keith’s basketball shorts, and while it was getting to be a bit cold for those, it wasn’t  _ too _ cold yet.  He threw those and a pair of boxers onto his bed, then snagged a jacket from his desk chair and added that to the mix.  

 

He wanted to be able to tell Hunk details, but that wasn’t the world they lived in.  Instead he said, “Hey, remember that crazy youtube channel we found?”  He turned his back on Hunk and dropped his towel.  They’d stopped being shy about that kind of thing ages ago.  He slipped his boxers on and adjusted them on his hips as he continued.  “The one with the elevators?  They posted a new video on Thursday, and it is  _ wild _ , you should….” 

 

He was halfway through pulling on the gym shorts when he realized Hunk was staring at him.  He stopped, turning around slowly and frowning.  “You should… check it out…” he finished saying.  “What?  What are you making that face for?” 

 

He crossed his arms over his naked chest while Hunk’s expression changed from confusion to anger.  Lance suddenly felt like he was in trouble, though he wasn’t sure why.

 

“Dude…” Hunk said, voice cautious and unsettling.  “What happened to your back?”

 

Lance froze on the spot, going cold in panic as realization washed over him.  It was about this time last week that he’d been having a heart attack, Allura showing up at work and scaring the hell out of him.  It would have been funny, almost -the irony of it- if Lance wasn’t busy losing his mind.

 

“What?” 

 

“Are those bruises?” Hunk was standing now and crossing the short space of their dorm room.  Lance back peddled and pulled his shirt over his head with an urgency he hadn’t known he was capable of. 

 

He said, “No!” quickly and made the mistake of flinching when Hunk reached for him.  Hunk’s eyes widened, and he drew his hand back immediately. 

 

He didn’t stop the interrogation. “What happened? Where did they come from?” 

 

Lance couldn’t have this conversation.  He couldn’t  _ breathe _ .  This wasn’t how this was this was supposed to happen.  It wasn’t supposed to happen at all.  Hunk was never,  _ ever _ supposed to find out about this.  No one outside of the community was.  They’d hate him.  They’d think he’s a freak.  

 

“Are you okay?”

No.  He couldn’t think of words to say.  He couldn’t sort through Hunk’s rapid fire questions.  He couldn’t  _ do this _ .  He shook his head.  Hunk stepped closer. 

 

“Is someone hitting you?” he demanded, outraged.  “Is  _ Keith _ hitting you?” 

 

Lance didn’t stop his gasp in time, and he noticed the way Hunk’s eyes widened with it.  Oh fuck.  Oh no, now he’d done it. 

 

“Oh my God…” Hunk muttered, fists unclenching and face softening.  “Lance, he-” 

 

But Lance couldn’t do this.  He couldn’t have this conversation, and he couldn’t clear things up.  He turned on heel and ran, throwing their door open and bolting as fast as he could in the confined space of their hallway.  He heard Hunk’s voice behind him, yelling, “Lance!  Wait!” 

 

But he couldn’t.  He ran with bare feet and dripping hair down the stairwell and out the front door of their building.  He needed some fresh air.  He needed to breathe.  He rounded the corner and dropped down next to the building, leaning up against the wall and dropping his head between his knees.  He’d had panic attacks before, when he was a kid in junior high.  They always said to put your head between your knees and breathe, so he worked on that, fingers drumming frantically against his thigh and tugging at his hair as he tried to calm down.  

 

It had to be around twenty minutes later, when his breathing was stable but his mind was still a whirlwind that he realized he’d forgotten to take his pill.  It just wasn’t his day, he decided, dropping his head into his hands and closing his eyes.  He’d find the guts to go back inside eventually, but not quite yet.  He had all the time in the world that Sunday, and during a moment like this, he really fucking needed it.

 

 

 

…

 

 

Lance was late.  Keith knew that, because he’d set an alarm on his phone so  _ he _ wouldn’t be late.  An hour after Lance had left, his phone was chiming at him and urging him out the door.  But Lance hadn’t come back to his room, and he wasn’t in the common area.  He wasn’t answering his texts either, but Keith figured he’d gotten distracted by  _ something _ .  He headed up to Lance’s room to track him down.

 

He’d promised coffee, and after  _ waking him up _ , he definitely owed it to him. 

 

Lance wasn’t there when Keith got to his room.  He knocked on the door, and Hunk was the one that answered.  It took him exactly three seconds to look Keith over, glower, and pin him bodily to the wall, and in the next few moments after Keith really regretted skipping his martial arts practices for the past month.

 

“Um, hi?” he’d asked, hoping this was some kind of weird game.  It wasn’t.

 

Hunk had both hands fisted in the front of Keith’s t-shirt, and he was pulling him up enough to keep him on his toes.  Keith couldn’t move, trapped between Hunk and the cinderblock wall of their dorm building.  Between a rock and a hard place. 

 

That was a joke Hunk would appreciate, under different circumstances.  Not at the moment, though, because he was obviously not playing some kind of game. 

 

“How  _ dare _ you-” 

 

“What?” Keith asked.

 

“You’d better have a damn good explanation-” 

 

“For  _ what _ ?” 

 

“-Or I swear to God.” 

 

Keith tugged at Hunk’s arms and tried to push him away, but it was a moot effort.  Hunk shook him a little, and Keith lost his breath when his back smacked into the wall again.  He was an unfortunate mix between confused, scared, and turned on.  That last bit was really inconvenient, and he just hoped Hunk didn’t press close enough to notice, or was at least distracted.

 

Luck was on Keith’s side, apparently.  At least… sort of. 

 

“What did you do to him!?” Hunk demanded, shouting in the small space.  Keith was surprised no one had come out to the hall and told them to shut up yet.

 

He shouted back, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” as a door slammed. 

 

“Don’t give me that bull shit-” 

 

“What!? What the fuck!?”

 

Pidge materialized at their side, seemingly out of thin air, and she butted into their conversation like she’d been there all along.  “What on Earth are you guys doing?” she asked, voice even, they weren’t about to deck it out in the middle of the hallway.  Keith still wasn’t sure what they were fighting about, but Hunk looked close to actually decking him.  Keith didn’t take that shit lying down, never had.  If Hunk hit him, Keith’d hit back, and they’d probably get detained by campus police.

 

Hunk answered Pidge without turning his glare away from Keith, also acting as if she were a part of this.  He said, “Lance had bruises.  Said Keith gave them to him.” 

 

Keith’s stomach dropped to his knees, and Pidge’s face became very seriously very quickly. 

 

“Bruises,” she said, one single word as she studied Keith with a calculating expression.  Keith felt like a troublesome computer.  He also felt like a deer staring down the barrel of a twelve gauge.  He cast panicked glances between Hunk and Pidge as they continued to glare quietly. 

 

Pidge’s gaze snapped to Hunk and she crossed her arms. “Where?” 

 

“What?” Hunk asked, grip loosening just a little.  Keith considered kicking free and running.

 

“Where were the bruises?” she specified, gears almost visibly turning in her head under her mess of wild hair. 

 

Hunk didn’t look any less confused as he answered, exactly the way Keith knew he was going to.  “All over his back… his shoulders, and um.  His ass.  I saw them when he was changing.” 

 

The gears picked up speed.  Pidge’s contemplative expression focused back on Keith, and he realized he was breathing too quickly.  He gulped in a breath of air and tried to slow it down, waiting quietly for her to come to whatever conclusion she was working out. 

 

There was a good chance she knew what was really going on here.  He and Lance weren’t the most subtle about it, and if anyone was going to piece all the clues together, it was her.  

 

True enough, she lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes at him, arms tightening around her chest as she said, “This had better be exactly what I think it is.”  Keith desperately hoped Pidge was as clever as he thought she was. 

 

“What?” Hunk asked.  “What is it?”

 

Keith swallowed his pride and decided he’d apologize to Lance after this was all over and done with.  “It’s a sex thing,” he answered. 

 

“Well thank fuck for that,” Pidge breathed out instantly.  Hunk let go of his shirt, putting him back on his feet, and raised a hand to his mouth. 

 

“Oh my God…” he murmured.

 

Pidge narrowed her eyes at him and jabbed a finger into his chest, probably picking up on his quickly relaxing demeanor.  “You’re not done yet,” she threatened.  “You have a lot of explaining to do.” 

 

“It’s a… oh my God….”  Hunk was apparently broken by the confession, but he followed Pidge back into his dorm room and held the door open for Keith to join them.  He followed them inside, panic not quite settled down in his gut.  This wasn’t going to be the worst conversation of his life, and neither of them had murdered him yet, so that was good.  Keith just wished this hadn’t come to light at all, for Lance’s sake. 

 

Which had him wondering- where the hell did Lance go? 

 

 

 

…

 

 

It wasn’t too much later, around noon, when Lance turned back up again.  Explaining things to Pidge and Hunk had been less painful than Keith had expected them to be.  Pidge had very simple, almost survey-like questions about what they did, why they did it, where and how they did it, and whether everything was safe.  Hunk was just having the darndest time wrapping his head around the idea, not because he was being a jerk about it or anything.  It just hadn’t ever been an option he’d thought very hard about, especially not in terms of his best friend. 

 

Keith understood needing time to adjust, and if Hunk asked a few weird questions along the way, it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. 

 

After that was all said and done, Pidge brought her laptop in from her own room and set up camp on Hunk’s bed.  Hunk sat down in front of his own computer, looking a little worse for wear.  He put headphones over his ears and focused really hard on whatever video game he was playing.  Keith sprawled out on Lance’s bed and watched Hunk play, waiting for Lance to text him back. 

 

“I have the perfect song for this,” Pidge declared at some point, diving for her phone and furiously swiping at the screen for a while.  She must have found what she was looking for at some point, because she grinned and set the device back down.  She didn’t elaborate any further on the song.  Keith didn’t ask her to. 

 

He found out soon enough as it was.  The sound of a key card sliding in the door grabbed all of their attention and had Pidge immediately back at her phone.  She beamed.  The door cracked open, rather slowly, and Lance poked his head inside. 

 

He glanced around sheepishly, not looking very pleased to find his room full.  “Oh,” he said, stepping inside but clinging to the door.  “Hi….” 

 

Lance looked ready to say something further, but he was cut off by music erupting from the other side of the room.  Lance’s head snapped up, eyebrows furrowed, as what sounded like bad country twang played through Pidge’s phone speaker.  Keith glanced over curiously.  Hunk pulled off his headphones. 

 

There was no way Keith could have prepared himself for the song that played.  It still sounded like country, still all twang and banjos and whiny, drawling voices.  The lyrics, though.  Those were something else.  Keith wasn’t sure he heard them right the first time. 

 

The first line started bluntly.   _ “I wanna be your dominated love slave _ ,” it sang.   _ “I wanna be the one who takes the pain. _ ”

 

Pidge looked far too proud of herself.  Keith felt like he’d fallen suddenly into a weird dream. 

 

The song continued,  _ “You can spank me when I do not behave _ ,” and Keith let out a snort of laughter before he could stop it.  “ _ Smack me in the forehead with a chain. _ ” 

 

As that line rung out, while Keith was trying not to lose his shit and failing, Lance finally spoke.  “Turn it off,” he said, voice hard. 

 

Pidge’s smirk widened.  “No.” 

 

The chorus was worse.  Keith couldn’t even pretend that he wasn’t laughing.   _ “I looooove being dirty, and I looooove being cheap, and I looooove the way you hurt me- _ ” 

 

“Pidge, turn it off!”

 

“No!” 

 

“ _ So driiiiiiive your staples deep. _ ”  Pidge looked victorious and wildly amused.  Hunk looked absolutely gobsmacked.  Lance looked mortified, and Keith couldn’t stop laughing. 

 

The beat picked up, and the lyrics continued.   _ “Want you to smack me and call me naughty-” _

 

Lance lunged across the room towards Pidge, probably in an attempt to get the phone and turn the song off.  Pidge scrambled out of reach and stood on Hunk’s bed, phone held high above her head and still blaring. 

 

_ “Put a belt sander against my skin (yahoo!)-”  _

 

“Give me the phone!” Lance demanded, taking out Pidge’s legs and sending them both crashing onto the bed.  

 

“Fuckin’ make me!” Pidge yelled back, keeping the phone just out of reach and planting a hand in the middle of Lance’s face to hold him back.  

 

“Keith, stop laughing!” 

 

Keith couldn’t have stopped if you paid him a thousand dollars.  He  _ howled _ with laughter, clutching his sides as tears sprung to his eyes.  His cheeks hurt from smiling.

 

“Ow!  Mother  _ fucker _ !” 

 

“Don’t test me McClain!” 

 

_ “I looooove feelin’ dirty, and I looooove feeling cheap-”  _

 

The two were still fighting like animals.  They came dangerously close to toppling off the side of the bed, and that was when Pidge jerked her arm back and threw her phone away from them.  It sailed straight towards Hunk, who caught it and with just a little juggling and turned the song off as soon as he was able. 

 

Pidge and Lance froze mid-battle.  Lance was straddling Pidge and somehow managed to have her in a headlock at the same time.  Pidge had a death grip on his arm, pointy nails digging into the flesh, both legs wrapped around one of his like a boa constrictor.  Her glasses were pushed up into her hair and tangled up, not so much balancing there as they were trapped.  Lance’s clothes were all rumpled, his hair was sticking up all over the place, and he was red-faced and panting. 

 

“That’s enough,” Hunk said, setting the phone aside.  Keith choked back giggles.  

 

Just like that, Lance was up like a shot, untangling himself from Pidge and stumbling across the room.  He grabbed his wallet off his desk as he passed, and he slammed the door shut behind him.  All three of them paused and stared for a moment before exchanging a glance. 

 

“Good one, Pidge,” Hunk said, voice tired. 

 

Keith was the first to move.  He rolled off the bed and landed on his feet, wiping the last of the giggles off his face as he went.  “I got this,” he said.  

 

He stopped briefly at the door to turn and point at Pidge.  “Can you send me that song?” he asked.  “I need it on my iPod.” 

 

She met his eye and grinned again, nodding.  Keith turned and headed out the door.  

 

 

…

 

 

 

Lance hadn’t gone far this time, stopping in the common area of their dorm hall and curling up uselessly on the couch.  He wasn’t surprised when Keith found him almost immediately.  He was a little surprised by what he said, though. 

 

“You owe me a coffee,” Keith said, stopping by the couch and nudging Lance’s foot with his own.  At least Lance had been smart enough to grab shoes on his way out this time.  Shoes and his wallet- the essentials.  He’d had just enough time to shove his feet into them before Keith appeared and ordered him up.  “Come on.” 

 

Lance followed him down the stairs and out of their building, but he wasn’t happy about it.  He made that obvious by sulking as much as possible, arms crossed over his chest and frown prominent on his face.  “I can’t believe you told them,” he said, once they were outside. 

 

Keith glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.  Lance couldn’t tell whether he felt guilty or not.  It wasn’t really Keith’s fault.  He  _ knew _ that.  But he was mad, and he wanted to blame  _ somebody _ . 

 

Keith surprised him yet again by saying, “I’m sorry.”  Lance blinked and dropped his arms.  Keith stared at the sidewalk and continued.  “I didn’t want to tell them without your permission, but they didn’t really give me a choice.” 

 

“They can… be like that….”  Hunk and Pidge were two of the most stubborn people Lance knew.  Keith didn’t stand a chance. 

 

“They’re not upset, you know.  I mean… Hunk was pretty mad at  _ me _ , but they aren’t mad at you, like, at all.” 

 

Lance had a hard time believing that.  Maybe they weren’t mad at him.  That didn’t mean they were cool with it.  That didn’t mean Lance wanted them to know.  That didn’t mean Pidge wasn’t totally making fun of him with that stupid ass song, or that Hunk wasn’t all freaked out, or that Lance didn’t want to kill the both of them and then himself. 

 

For a person who embarrassed himself a lot, Lance had never been this humiliated. 

 

“Hunk wanted to beat me up,” Keith added, rubbing the back of his neck.  “To defend your honor and stuff.”  He was obviously trying really hard to make Lance feel better.  Lance couldn’t manage anything other than irritation. 

 

“He shouldn’t have done that,” he grumbled. Keith’s shoulder knocked into his own. 

 

“They’re your friends.  They wanna protect you,” Keith said.  “It’s sweet, like family.” 

 

“Like family?” Lance asked.  Keith’s cheeks darkened slightly in a blush, and he looked away with a shrug.  He had a point though.  Some of Lance’s family members would be more than willing to deck it out to defend him.  Lance would do the same for them.  

 

“Yeah,” he agreed.  “I guess so.” 

 

“You’re lucky you have people who care about you like that,” Keith added, and if Lance wasn’t stressed beyond belief and emotionally exhausted, he would have fished deeper into that conversation. There were things he didn’t know yet, and questions he wanted answered.  Keith was quite a mystery still, but right now he was just a sweetheart.  He was obviously uncomfortable.  He didn’t have to try that hard to make Lance feel better. 

 

“Thanks,” Lance said, bumping Keith’s shoulder back.

 

Keith looked over at him and grinned.  “Buy me that coffee you owe me, then go talk this out with your friends.  They have a lot of questions that I wouldn’t answer.” 

 

Noting the way Keith was smirking, Lance redacted his previous statement.  Keith wasn’t a sweetheart.  He was a sadistic little jerkface who liked to watch Lance suffer.  “I hate you,” Lance complained.  Keith reached over and patted him on the shoulder. 

 

“Let me know how it goes.” 

 

 

…

 

 

**Lance McLame: they don’t hate me**

 

**Told you :Keef**

**What’d they say? :Keef**

 

**Lance McLame: Pidge said never have i ever is gonna be a lot more fun now**

 

**Oh no :Keef**

 

**Lance McLame: I blame u for this**

 

**Oh sure :Keef**

**U okay? :Keef**

 

**Lance McLame: ig**

 

**Okay :Keef**

 

 

 

**…**

 

 

**Pidge (Lance’s friend): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V-q0zSh3RvI**

**Pidge (Lance’s friend): here you go, you kinky fuck**

 

**Wow thanks :Keith (Lance’s boyfriend)**

 

 

 

**…**

 

 

**Corny-beef: how’re you doing today, kiddo?**

 

**UGH :Cherrybob-omb**

 

**Corny-beef: alright then**

 

 

**…**

 

 

It was around eleven o’clock at night that Keith was hit with a wave of panic.  It wasn’t necessarily targeted at any one thing, which made it a little bit harder to deal with.  He just realized, while flipping through his class planner, that they had exactly four weeks left in the semester.  Three weeks left ‘til finals week.  Keith still had grades that needed to come up, and drastically, before they got there.  

 

He had an art assignment due the next morning that he’d forgotten about, and there was a quiz looming in biology that week.  He had reading assignments he hadn’t done yet, and a quiz that was due online in half an hour.  Scheduling for classes was coming up soon, and Keith hadn’t even started to think about that.  He didn’t know where to start.  He hadn’t met with his adviser all semester.  He’d have to apply for winter housing soon as well, and make sure he had enough money to buy groceries over winter break when campus shut down.  He had a long shift at work tomorrow on top of classes.  

 

He was, in a word, overwhelmed.

 

He took a moment, let himself panic properly, and then opened the quiz website.  He didn’t have time to look through the textbook, so he’d have to wing it.  At least he hadn’t missed it.  He’d  _ almost _ missed it.  Again.

 

Keith got things straight in his head while going through the quiz on his screen, figuring out which assignments he’d do when and mentally penciling in time to catch up on others and take a look at scheduling.  

 

He hated that he did this, fell behind and then scrambled to catch up.  It always felt like drowning, and he always found himself sorting his life back out around midnight.  

 

It was easier to worry when the sun was down.  Keith skimmed the quiz, frowned, reread a question and guessed on an answer.  He hadn’t heard from his grandfather in a while either.  He should get a hold of him, send another letter or call the home and ask how he was doing. 

 

Keith didn’t have time for that.  

 

He’d make time. 

 

He got a seven out of ten on the quiz, which wasn’t good, but at least he’d  _ done  _ it.  He scowled at his sketch book as he pulled it out and glared extra hard at the half finished drawing assignment he’d left to rot.  It was more effort than it was worth.  Keith hated art.  He’d be glad when this horrible class was done with.

 

In an effort to calm down, Keith plugged his earbuds into his laptop and hit shuffle on his music.  If he didn’t have some sort of noise going while he worked, he’d probably fall asleep at his desk and wake up with a face full of charcoal.

 

He checked the time on his phone -ten minutes till midnight- and considered how long it would take him to get this assignment done.  He also considered texting Lance to check in on him again, but Lance hadn’t been very talkative earlier.  He probably needed space.  Keith could respect that.  Sometimes he needed space too. 

 

Like tonight.  A text came in from Shiro, and Keith turned his phone off without reading it.  He couldn’t be bothered right then.  He needed to get back on track academically.  Everything else would have to wait.


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Keith would be fine, and Thanksgiving would be awesome. Lance was sure of it.
> 
> Keith was hiding in the bathroom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late. 
> 
> The first bit reads like noncon, so if that's not a thing you're comfy with skip down to the lines. 
> 
>  
> 
> Keith has a lot of feelings, and the angst is real. Enjoy~

Keith was tied to the ceiling.  Perhaps that wasn’t quite the case, but Keith wasn’t entirely sure what he was tied to.  All he knew was that his arms were trapped above his head, secured at the wrist and immobile.  He wasn’t suspended off the ground, because that was a stupidly dangerous thing to do with wrist cuffs, but even though he could hold some of his own weight he was forced up on his toes.  He felt alarmingly close to losing his balance even though there was nowhere to fall.  He felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff.

 

He wasn’t.  Keith was on solid ground in a room he did not recognize, and he was entirely naked.  Despite the lack of clothing, which had him trembling with nerves and heaving in panicked breaths, he wasn’t cold at all.  The room was comfortable, almost hot.

 

Suddenly hands were all over him, and Keith was overheating.  They trailed down his arms and over his pinched shoulder blades. They touched his chest, his neck, his stomach.  As they slid down past his ribs and closer to the v of his lower abdomen, his panic picked up and he started to struggle.

 

There was a reason he didn’t do scenes naked.

 

“Problem?” a voice asked.  It was gruff, and male, and it might have been Shiro but might not have been.  He couldn’t be sure.  A rough hand splayed across Keith’s stomach and pulled him tight against another’s body.  They were clothed, and Keith was pressed back entirely against their front. He couldn’t pull away when their hands started to move again.

 

They slid down between his legs and wrapped around him, gripping him a bit too hard.  A strangled groan ripped its way out of Keith’s throat.

 

“No,” he said.  “No, wait, stop.”  He was distantly aware of the fact that the voice’s owner had hurt him already, not in a good way, and that they’d be willing to do so again if Keith didn’t cooperate.  That didn’t stop him from struggling.

 

“No?” they asked, the question ending with a breathy chuckle as their hands continued to roam wherever they wanted.  Keith was burning with humiliation.  “You don’t get to say ‘no,’ boy.”

 

Keith thrashed against them, kicking and squirming but unable to break away from whoever was holding him.  He said, “Red light,” and then shouted it when he was ignored.  The hands continued groping at him, the voice continued laughing, and Keith chanted ‘red light’ over and over like his own personal mantra.

 

His captor didn’t listen, didn’t care.  Keith fought against him, trying with all his might, but it was to no avail.

 

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

He woke up in a cold sweat, heart pounding and head spinning and dick throbbing.  He took a moment, gripping his sheet in fists and staring up at the ceiling, to let himself calm down and get a grasp on his surroundings.  It took a few minutes, but before long he was breathing normally and able to fully convince himself, ‘hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.’  He swallowed hard, throat parched, and immediately rolled onto his side to text Shiro and cancel the play session they’d scheduled that evening.

 

It had become habit at this point to wait until his anxiety was damn near overwhelming before calling Shiro up to have it beaten out of him.  Maybe Shiro was right, though. Maybe this wasn’t the healthiest way to handle things.  Maybe catharsis didn’t actually exist, and this was all for naught.

 

Well, Keith didn’t care what the professionals had to say about it.  It worked for him, and they’d have to rip his coping mechanisms out of his cold, dead hands.

 

But… not this time.  When he was already keyed up and having dreams like that, a scene could only be counterproductive.  The last thing he needed was to freak out halfway through because of weird headspace. Shiro didn’t need to put up with that shit.

 

Nobody needed to put up with his shit that day, Keith decided, turning off the alarm on his phone and rolling onto his stomach.  He bit back a moan at the resulting friction and shut down any and all thoughts about sex.  Now wasn’t the time.  The alarm had been set to go off in about ten minutes to wake him for his eight a.m. drawing class, but Keith wasn’t feeling it that morning.

 

There were only three weeks left, and he had only had a couple absences.  It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he ditched.  He’d stayed up late to finish his assignment the night before, so he figured he deserved a break.  He’d stay in bed, wake up whenever he woke up and decide what to do from there.  He’d turn his drawing in next Monday, check the website for his next assignment before then, and it would all be fine.

 

He pulled his pillow over his head and relished the comfort that accompanied the gentle pressure and the way the fabric blocked out the light of the morning coming through the windows. His heavy eyelids fell closed, and the grip of panic slowly loosened its hold in the center of his chest.  Within minutes he was falling back asleep, and this time, he didn’t dream.  

 

 

…

 

Christmas was by far Lance’s favorite time of year.  It was busy, and loud, and filled with a plethora of things that you just couldn’t help but love.  The music was catchy and the clothes were hilarious, and everyone was just a little happier than normal.

 

Or, at least, they were supposed to be.  

 

Lance’s friends were apparently defective.  

 

He showed up to the library on Tuesday wearing a santa hat and carrying a tupperware container of red and green cookies he’d made Hunk help him bake.  Keith had looked up from his workbook to wave, but beyond that he wasn’t acknowledging that either of them were there, Santa hat or no.  Pidge had cast an unamused glance at that hat, and she’d munched on a cookie before returning to her own work.  It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when Lance was humming one of _the catchiest_ Christmas songs ever under his breath that she finally spoke.

“No,” she said, voice loud and serious in the quiet of the library.  Keith remained unmoved.  “Do not start.  It’s not even Thanksgiving yet.”

 

“You’re right,” he agreed, smiling wide because not even her grinch-like behavior could tamper the good tidings of Christmas.  “But it’s almost Thanksgiving, which means it’s almost Christmas. Feliz Navidad, mother fucker.”

 

Lance had to admit that he’d been nervous after the big, accidental reveal about his sex life.  Pidge’s prank with the song hadn’t helped.  Lance had hoped to come back to his room and calmly explain the situation to Hunk, swear him to secrecy, and never mention it again.  He hadn’t expected to be ambushed, not only by his roommates but by _Keith_ , who’d been forced to tell them everything before Lance even had the chance to defend himself.

 

Lance wasn’t mad at him over that.  He knew how Hunk and Pidge were, and honestly, the poor boy hadn’t stood a chance.

 

Hunk had offered up the cookie making as a peace offering, and Lance had jumped on it immediately.  Hunk hadn’t wanted to talk about it too much, beyond a few hesitant questions.  That wasn’t a big surprise.  He was the most vanilla guy Lance had ever met, which was a shame, really.  He could do a lot of damage if he wanted to.  But Lance wasn’t going to push, and he wasn’t going to tell him anything more than what he asked.  He didn’t want to scar the guy for life.

 

Pidge, on the other hand, had been deadly curious.  She’d approached him through text message around two a.m. that Sunday night, offering an apology for taking things too far and then asking a million and one questions.  Eventually Lance had to cut her off, telling her that if she wanted details she’d have to get him drunk.  

 

So that may or may not have been happening before Christmas break.  Which reminded him….

 

“Got any plans for Thursday?” he asked.  They had Thursday and Friday off from classes that week for a short break before finals panic truly set in.  Lance didn’t have plans.  He didn’t have the money to fly home twice in one semester.  Coran had invited him over for Thanksgiving, same as he had last year, but Lance couldn’t imagine sitting around with _Allura’s_ family without the threat of spontaneous combustion.  

 

“Family dinner,” Pidge answered.  “My parents invited you and Hunk again, and they’re kind of expecting you.  Keith too.”

 

Keith glanced up idly, eyes glazed over like he’d been in a trance.  Maybe he had.

 

“Thanksgiving,” Lance answered. “Got any plans? ”

 

He watched a series of micro-expressions pass over Keith’s face, a tiny frown and temporarily furrowed eyebrows, eyes downcast towards the table.  Lance had to wonder what was going through his head, what thought process had inspired that.  His answer sounded too simple.  “Um… no….”

 

Lance couldn’t stand to let him keep pouting like that.  He cheered, “Awesome!” and plucked the Santa hat off his head, dropping it on Keith’s instead.  “You can come to Pidge’s with us then.”

 

Keith’s frown deepened, hands reaching up to tug the hat on more securely.  He batted the ball away from his face.  Lance melted a little.  “What?”

 

“My mom always cooks too much,” Pidge said.  “And she wants to meet my friends.”

 

Lance smiled fondly and folded his hands under his chin.  “Your mom and my mom should get together and have coffee. They’d be best friends, I just know it.”

 

“Give us enough food to fill the mini fridge for a month,” Pidge responded with a wide grin, then turned back to Keith.  “So?  You in?”

 

Keith, as was his custom from time to time, looked wildly uncomfortable.  “I don’t want to intrude on a family thing….”

 

Lance decided to stop him right there.  “She literally invited you,” he said.  

 

Pidge nodded.  “She did.  She said, ‘invite all your friends,’ and we know each other too well by now to _not_ be friends.”  Lance cringed and shot Pidge a dirty look.  She shrugged innocently.

 

Keith gulped.  “Yeah?”

 

“Come on, dude, the Holt’s are amazing,” Lance said.  “Who else are you going to spend the holiday with?”

 

This time it was Pidge shooting him the dirty look, and Lance had a fleeting moment of wondering what he’d said wrong while Keith’s expression darkened like a storm cloud.  It cleared quickly, though.  Keith rubbed his hands over his face and pulled the Santa hat off his head, tossing it at Pidge before slouching back into his seat.

 

“Okay,” he agreed.  “Okay, I’ll come.  Thanks.”

 

“She’s excited to meet you,” Pidge said.  “She worries, y’know?  Because of the whole college thing.”  She rolled her eyes, and it reminded Lance of his younger sister, who was just about Pidge’s age and entirely made of sass.  He reached over and ruffled her hair.

 

“Cause you’re a _baby,_ ” he said, sing-song.  Keith chuckled.  Pidge scowled.

 

“You’re pushing it.  First the songs, now this?” That was a threat, if Lance had ever heard one, and he’d known Pidge long enough to know that revenge with her wasn’t served cold.  It was served in a healthy dose of red hot public embarrassment, and Lance wasn’t sure his pride could suffer another blow quite yet.  He mimed zipping his lips shut.  Keith shook his head and dove back into his school work.

 

Keith looked awful tired.  The dark circles couldn’t be healthy, but Lance wasn’t too concerned.  They were almost done.  Thanksgiving break, then two weeks before freedom.  What was there to worry about?  

 

Keith would be fine, and Thanksgiving would be awesome.  Lance was sure of it.

 

 

…

 

 

Keith was hiding in the bathroom.  It wasn’t that he didn’t like Pidge’s parents.  Dr. and Mr. Holt were lovely people, friendly without being fake with it and devastatingly witty.  They traded constant banter back and forth over the dinner table, and after spending just a few hours with the family, Keith fully understood where Pidge got it.

 

So it wasn’t that Keith didn’t like them, or that he wasn’t having a good time.  It was just that new people were hard, and the more he watched them being a happy, functional family, the more he felt like he was going to throw up.

 

It wasn’t their fault; it was his.  

 

Realistically he knew that if he hid in the bathroom too much longer, someone was going to come looking for him.  He’d told Lance to go ahead and take his turn for him in the Trivial Pursuit game they were playing. Normally he was pretty competitive, but at this point it didn’t matter much.  He knew embarrassingly little about pop culture, and the Holts hadn’t missed a question yet.  They were getting _creamed_. Everyone was having a blast.

 

Well, almost everyone.

 

Keith sighed and sunk down to the floor, leaning back against the cabinets and pulling his knees up to his chest.  He had to get it together.  He had to go back out there and have fun, stop being such a lame ass.  He didn’t want the Holts to think he wasn’t grateful.  He was. It was just…

 

He didn’t do good with holidays.  He’d watched enough Hallmark movies with his grandparents to know how these things were supposed to go, but that didn’t help the real thing make any more sense.  The Holts were a pretty Hallmark family.  Keith knew he was supposed to be happy.  He _wanted_ to be happy.

 

It was just…

 

A knock at the door startled Keith, causing him to jump out of his skin and smack his head on the cabinets behind him.  He hissed in a breath and cradled the back of his head, scrambling to his feet.

 

“You okay in there?” Mr. Holt asked through the door.  Keith looked himself over in the mirror, making sure nothing was drastically out of place.  He didn’t want to look suspicious.  He’d been accused, once, of stealing prescription drugs from someone because he’d stayed in the bathroom for too long.  He _hadn’t_ been, but he didn’t want Mr. Holt to think that anyways.  They had no reason to trust him.

 

He unlocked the door and pulled it open, standing in the open doorway for a moment.  Mr. Holt greeted him with a smile.

“Sorry, I was just….”  Just what?  Having a nervous breakdown in your bathroom?  Definitely not stealing from you, I promise?  Enjoying your interior decorating?

 

Keith didn’t know how to explain himself.  Mr. Holt didn’t give him time for an explanation.  He shook his head, still smiling, and motioned for Keith to follow as he meandered down the hallway away from the living room.  

 

Keith could still hear the game going.  Matt and Pidge were arguing loudly about who _actually_ sang in “My Fair Lady.”  Pidge was demanding Audrey Hepburn.  Matt said it was Julie Andrews.  Keith had no idea who either of those people were, so he pushed the question away and followed Mr. Holt down the hallway.

 

He stepped into a small room, with a desk and a couch and some bookshelves- a study.  He flipped on the lightswitch and walked in, leaning casually against the edge of the desk.  A complicated looking telescope pointed out the open window behind him.  Keith took a step in and idled in the doorway.  He felt suspiciously like he was in the principal’s office, but he had no idea what he’d done.

 

Maybe Mr. Holt could sense Keith’s nervousness.  Maybe not.  Either way, he smiled.  “I just wanted to let you know it’s been a pleasure to meet you,” he said, catching Keith entirely off guard.  “Katie speaks highly of you.  It started as just ‘Lance’s friend,’ but now she really does care for you.  I know she has trouble letting people know with those things.”

 

Keith had no idea what to say to that.  He’d figured that Pidge tolerated him at best, maybe found him amusing to mess with.  But apparently they were friends, which was nice to know, though Keith wasn’t sure why Mr. Holt was telling him that.

 

“She’s never made friends easily,” he said, and then laughed at what must have been a flat expression on Keith’s face.  “This isn’t an invasion of privacy, don’t worry.  She’d tell you herself if she thought you wanted to know.”

 

“Oh…” Keith answered, a little relieved.  He wanted to say more, but he was coming up blank.  Today was seriously not a good day for him.

 

“You’re a lot alike, you know,” Mr. Holt said, and Keith immediately found himself shaking his head.

 

“Your daughter is brilliant,” he argued.  Mr. Holt’s smile softened, and Keith felt suddenly like he was talking with his grandfather, back when they could have real conversations.  Back in the day.

 

“I hope this isn’t too forward of me,” Mr. Holt went on.  “Colleen says I have _tendencies_.  But I know things can be difficult, at this age.  My parents died when I was a young man.  I wanted to let you know that if you ever need anything, Colleen and I are more than eager to lend a hand.”

 

Keith found himself blushing.  He didn’t know exactly what he’d told Pidge, though he knew it wasn’t much.  He didn’t know what she’d told her parents, either.  What would spark Mr. Holt into saying _that._  It was a nice gesture, it really was.  But these were his friend’s _parents_.  He barely knew them.  They didn’t owe him anything, and he didn’t want to take advantage.  

 

“Just in case,” Mr. Holt said.  “Nobody deserves to feel all alone out there.”

 

If Mr. Holt didn’t stop talking like that, Keith was going to do something embarrassing, like cry.  His throat felt a little tight and uncomfortable when he tried to speak.  He nodded.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Back to the game then?” Mr. Holt offered, walking out of the room and guiding Keith along with a hand on his shoulder.  “If we let those two keep arguing, they’ll go at it all night, even if they find an answer.  My children are _impossible_.”

 

“Pidge can be a handful,” Keith agreed, making Mr. Holt laugh and shake his head.  

 

“You don’t even know.  We’ll bring out the home videos some day.  Third grade was definitely the worst.”

 

Maybe it wasn’t any easier to relax around all of them after that, but at least this time around he could breathe.  He watched Pidge and Matt argue, looking like carbon copies of each other in a way Keith used to believe all siblings did.  Lance kept jumping in to argue along with them, throwing in useless information that was barely even related to their argument.  Hunk was ignoring all of them to have a calm conversation with Dr. Holt.

 

Squeezed onto the couch between Lance and Hunk, not really a part of either discussion that was going on, Keith felt a little less sick than he had before.  This wasn’t his home, but that was fine.  He didn’t really want to go back there anyways.  Maybe he could get used to this sort of thing with a bit more time.  Maybe.

 

He glanced up and caught Mr. Holt’s eye across the way.  Mr. Holt winked, then “accidentally” drove his knee into the coffee table, rattling all the pieces on their game board and knocking them off their space.  Lance and Pidge cried out in outrage, scrambling to fix them.  Matt fell off the couch laughing.  Keith couldn’t even help it; he smiled.

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Friday was much less eventful than Thursday, and Saturday was easy as well.  Keith wanted to say he’d used his time wisely, used the break to get extra studying done.  He hadn’t.  He’d spent three days now being useless,

 

Saturday was half done, though, and Keith decided he’d better call his grandfather before he could talk himself out of it, or before it was too late, given the time zones.

 

He unlocked his phone and ignored the messages waiting there.  Shiro offering a ride to the munch on Wednesday.  Lance asking about Altea, whether it was this Sunday or next.  Keith ignored all of it and instead opened the dial pad.  He had the phone number pulled up on his computer (he’d never been able to make himself memorize it).  He dialed it, held the phone to his ear, and held his breath.

 

“Mercury Medical, how can I direct your call?” a friendly female voice asked him.  He very purposefully did _not_ hang the phone up.

 

“Hey, it’s Keith…” he replied.  They knew him by now, knew the question he was going to ask.  “How’s he doing today?”

 

“Sung is doing alright today,” she responded, her voice lacking the chipperness it’d had before, which meant that sure, he was doing _alright_ , but she couldn’t promise him anything.  “There was an episode this morning…. I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.”

 

He held back a sigh and closed his eyes.  “Okay, thank you,” he said.  “Yeah, go ahead and put me through.”  The phone went back to ringing, and it went on for a few seconds before there was finally a click and an answer.

 

“Hello?  What is this?” a voice that was _definitely_ Sung-ho asked.

 

Keith forced a grin.  “Gramps, hey,” he said.  “It’s me.  Keith.”

 

“Keith,” Sung-ho repeated.

 

“Your grandson.”

 

“Keith!” he cheered, loud and sudden.  So he remembered, today.  So that was good. “My child, yes, how are you?  It has been so long.”

 

It had only been about a week, but last week hadn’t went well.  Keith couldn’t expect him to remember.

 

“I’m good, gramps.  Good.  How are you?  Have a good Thanksgiving?”

 

Sung-ho hadn’t celebrated the holiday back when Keith was young, but the nursing home held the same conventional holidays for everyone.  He’d celebrated it whether he wanted to or not.

 

“It was the holiday, wasn’t it?” he asked.  “How old are you now?  You’re… you’re about twelve now, aren’t you Keith?”

 

“I’m twenty,” Keith responded.

 

“You don’t say.  How is your mother?”

 

He hadn’t asked in a while.  Hell, he hadn’t asked all semester.  Keith was starting to think he’d stop asking altogether.  It had made him angry, when he was younger.  He’d explained it over and over again that he didn’t know, he hadn’t seen her, she was _gone_ , couldn’t he remember?  

 

It wasn’t worth it, anymore.  Didn’t make it any easier.

 

Sometimes, it was just easier to lie.  “She’s good, gramps.  She’s doing great.”

 

“That’s good, that’s good,” he replied, probably nodding along.  “I should let you go.  It cost a whole dime to use the telephone, you know.”  

 

It didn’t, but Gramps obviously wasn’t in the same time as the rest of them.  Keith being twelve and his mother being around and the phone costing a dime didn’t all fit with each other.  He remembered Keith, and that was nice, but he was obviously somewhere else today.

 

It was easier to let him believe things.  “Okay.  I’ll call again soon, okay?”

 

“Come and visit me sometime!” he insisted, as if Keith didn’t live a thousand miles away.

 

“Yeah, of course,” Keith promised, knowing he wouldn’t remember.  “I’ll see you soon.”

 

“I love you, child.”

 

“Yeah, you too,” Keith answered, though he wasn’t sure.  After everything that had happened, after the twenty years he’d lived through, it was a miracle they spoke at all.  He never said it back, could never make himself.  His grandfather was easier to get along with this way, but that didn’t fix things.  

 

Maybe it would, in time.  Maybe Keith would get over it.

 

He texted Lance back, telling him Altea was next Sunday but he wasn’t going.  He turned his phone off after that and set down at his desk, hoping to get some real work done.  He didn’t do much of anything, and he didn’t look to see if Lance had responded.


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Keith would have felt bad about avoiding Lance if he wasn’t actively avoiding everyone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally thought of a good explanation for "the outfield" besides it being a weird band reference: 
> 
> Y'know that baseball analogy?? First base is kissing, second base is groping, home run is going all the way?? Well you know what technically counts as sex but doesn't really have a place in the 1-4 bases system? You guessed it. 
> 
> Where does that put it?? In the outfield. Boom.

Keith knew that, hypothetically of course, ruining his sleep schedule wouldn't actually help his grades. On the other hand, real life didn't leave room for hypotheticals, and he didn't have a decent sleep schedule to begin with. Sometimes things needed to be done.

 

It wasn't like he could sleep even if he tried to. He'd been a little more than wrecked since last Sunday, when his 'end of the semester' dread had set in, rolling over him in a wave of nausea and sending him scrambling. He'd thought the holiday would help.

 

He'd been wrong.

 

It was worst at night, when he was dead tired but every time he laid his head down to try and get some rest his brain kicked into a panicked overdrive and reminded him of every other thing he ought to be doing instead. So he got up, and he did it, and the next morning found him so tired he could barely focus for five minutes at a time. Rinse and repeat, Keith was still stuck in the same cycle that next Tuesday.

 

It was... less than good.

 

It wasn't the end of the world, though. He'd done this before. He always did stuff like this. He strung himself out and then scrambled to get it back together. He'd stopped answering his phone after Saturday, not having the energy to actually talk to anyone while trying to sort through all of this. There were less than three weeks until finals, and he was so far from ready.

 

Shiro had stopped trying to reach him rather quickly, trusting Keith's answer that he really was fine and leaving it at that. He'd done this last semester too, and once or twice over the summer. Sometimes talking to people was just too much. Shiro didn't seem to mind, or if he did, he didn't show it. And he was always there to talk again once Keith came back to wanting that.

 

On the contrary, Lance wasn't quite so easy to get rid of. He texted several times a day, even tried calling once. He invited Keith to the cafeteria with him, Hunk, and Pidge; asked him over to play video games or study; checked in about kink events coming up that Keith didn't have the time to go to. He did everything short of coming to visit Keith at work. Lance even came by and knocked on the door once, though Keith had kept quiet and waited for him to go away.

 

  
He would have felt bad about avoiding Lance if he wasn’t actively avoiding everyone.

 

Pidge and Hunk weren't trying to contact him, bless their hearts. Either they were too busy themselves, or they just didn't care enough, new friends or no. Keith appreciated it anyways.

 

It wasn't that he didn't want to see Lance, it was just... he wasn't going to be a lot of fun to be around. Lance didn't deserve that.

 

But Keith knew he was going to have to bite the bullet by Tuesday afternoon. They usually met in the library to study, and while Keith could cancel on him without it being the end of the world, the backlash that would come wasn't worth it. Keith didn't want to deal with a curious Lance during their eight a.m. lab, when he was stuck in the classroom for three hours with no hope of escaping. He'd rather get it done in the library, when he was already caffeinated and could walk out if he wanted to.

 

Keith got to their table first, and he dropped his books before folding his arms on the table. He laid his head against them and closed his eyes, telling himself he'd just rest for a moment until Lance got there.

 

He wasn't sure what happened next, because suddenly Lance was there and shaking Keith's shoulder.

 

Keith shot up, an embarrassing noise escaping his mouth, a string of drool running from his lip to a small puddle on the table between his arms. Lance laughed, quiet and breathy and bright. Keith's face heated up as his heart jackhammered in his chest, and the heavy feeling of Lance's hand settling on his head calmed him down more than he'd like to admit. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

"Hey there, sleeping beauty," Lance said, ruffling Keith's hair. He tossed his backpack on the table with an alarming 'bang!' and dropped down into the empty chair next to him. "Man, you look like shit."

 

Keith didn't even try to stop himself from scowling. "Wow," he said. "Thanks."

 

Lance's eyes widened a bit as he back peddled, and it was honestly a little fun to watch. "I mean- I... I didn't-" he stuttered. "You look tired."

 

"Yeah," Keith agreed. Lance wasn't wrong. He looked horrible.

 

"How much sleep did you get last night?"

 

Keith scrubbed his hand over his face and checked the time on his phone. There were three texts on his phone from Lance, asking if they were meeting, apologizing for running late, and mentioning coffee. Coffee sounded great.

 

Not the point. Keith had his eyes closed a little longer than he'd meant to.

 

"About twenty minutes, just now," he answered, and Lance's mouth actually fell open. You had to love the guy's dramatics, even if Keith didn't have the energy to put up with them.

 

"You're kidding me."

 

"No?"

 

"You didn't sleep last night?"

 

"Not really."

 

"It's not even finals week!" Lance protested, and Keith winced, both from the volume and the reminder.

 

"We should get to work," Keith said. "I need help with that lab assignment from last week. I didn't get it done in class."

 

Lance placed an open hand against his chest and raised his eyebrows. "Not finishing your homework in class? Shame on you. What kind of overachiever are you?"

 

Keith kept his blank expression trained on his books while he unearthed his lab manual and opened it on the table. "Ha," he said dryly. Lance sighed and rolled his eyes.

 

"Fine, let's take a look, then."

 

"Thanks."

 

"No problem, mullet."

  
...

  
**Lance (zipbi): hey man what are you up to?**  
**Lance (zipbi): you're a grad student right?**  
**Lance (zipbi): you on campus?**

**school work, yes, and yes :Themanthemyththelegend**  
**what's up kid? :Themanthemyththelegend**

**Lance (zipbi): y'know you're a great guy. let me buy you a coffee?**

**idk what you're doing here, but i feel the need to let you know I don't date men :Themanthemyththelegend**

**Lance (zipbi): nah man, just coffee. no romance.**  
**Lance (zipbi): bromance at most**

**lmao alright then. meet me @ CDC 16 :Themanthemyththelegend**

**Lance (zipbi): aye aye cap'n**

  
...

 

"So what's wrong with Keith?" Lance asked, sipping at his Grande Carmel Machiato and slipping into the seat across the small table from Shiro. He reveled in the sweet taste of whipped cream against his tongue and pulled back before he could burn himself with the freshly brewed coffee. Shiro sat with his arms folded on the table, sipping at a lemonade thing. When Lance spoke, though, he raised both eyebrows and sat back carefully, back straight and face alert.

 

"What do you mean? What happened?" If he was trying to conceal the worry in his voice, he was doing a poor job, and Lance reminded himself for what had to be the millionth time when dealing with Keith and Shiro that he wasn't allowed to be jealous. He couldn't let himself be jealous, because it wasn't like that, even if Lance wasn't entirely sure what it was.

 

Lance shook his head quickly and held both hands up. "No, nothing. Nothing happened, he just...."

 

And Lance realized he was way out of his league here. Who was he to go assuming things about Keith? Lance thought they were friends, yeah. He'd like to be more than friends, definitely. And while he'd probably do anything for the guy already, they hadn't actually been friends for very long. Shiro was going to laugh in his face, tell Lance that he was getting too big for his britches and needed to take a step back.

 

But Lance had started this, and he might as well finish it. "He's acting weird," he said. Instead of laughing, Shiro nodded slowly.

 

"He has been distant lately," Shiro agreed. "He cancelled a scene with me last Monday."

 

Sometimes shoving down jealousy was rather easy. Sometimes it was like stabbing himself with a fork. Lance forced a grin.

 

"Really?"

 

Shiro shrugged one shoulder and took another sip of his drink. He was fully covered today, professional button up shirt fastened all the way to the neck and tucked into his pants. It'd been hidden under a knit sweater when they'd met outside his office, but the quick walk through campus to the off-campus coffee shop was still a touch too warm for that kind of attire. It was tied around his waist now, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Lance was trying very, very hard not to let his gaze linger on Shiro's exposed forearms.

 

The amount of self-control he was having to expend on this particular Tuesday was edging on ridiculous.

 

"I think he just needs some space for a while," Shiro said.

 

Lance couldn't help but try and make light of the situation. "He should take astronomy then." It earned him a chuckle.

 

"He's been really stressed about school this semester, and I know he has this thing going with his scholarship and all, but...." He shook his head again and grinned. "This is his to tell you, but don't worry too much. He'll pull through."

 

"I saw him earlier today. He hasn't been sleeping."

 

"Give him time. He's a big boy, he can take care of himself."

 

"I'm not so sure...."

 

"Trust me?" Shiro's grin was warm and gentle and reminded Lance entirely of his father, which was a bit of an uncomfortable connection to make. Sure, it wasn't much of a stretch to connect the ideas of Shiro and a daddy kink, which wasn't really a kink Lance had, but heck. He'd be willing to make an exception.

 

Off topic. That was so off topic.

 

Lance swallowed hard. "Okay."

 

Shiro winced minutely and rubbed a spot on his upper arm with his finger tips, frowning at the spot as he did so. Lance, desperate to get his brain on a different train of thought, rolled with the first question that came to mind.

 

"You said that happened in the military?" he said, nodding towards the obvious scar tissue. Shiro set down the hand that had been rubbing, instead folding his hands around his drink and offering Lance another grin.

 

"I did."

 

Lance chewed on his lip and decided to let curiosity win over politeness. "What happened?"

 

Shiro didn't look especially surprised by this question, nor did he look terribly offended, much to Lance's relief. He simply wrapped his lips around his straw, took another sip and a moment to think, and stared out the window over Lance's shoulder.

 

"It was a little over five years ago. I was stationed over seas, had been in Afghanistan for a few months. We were out on a patrol, which isn't usually a big deal. But then the first truck ran over a land mine. My CO got thrown out. I was in the second truck, so I jumped out to see if I could help. Didn't realize the gas tank had gotten cracked open. I was about five feet away when that blew."

 

Shiro took a deep breath, like he'd forgotten to take one at all while telling his story. Lance had heard some of his uncle's horror stories before, but that didn't make them any easier to hear. He nodded encouragingly.

 

"My uniform caught fire, and I couldn't get it off in time. It's a miracle I didn't get burned anywhere else. Just singed off my eyebrows for a while, left a few marks on my face." He reached up and touched a smatter of small scars near the bridge of his nose. "After a few surgeries, I was just about good as new."

 

"They discharged you?"

 

Shiro nodded. "I wanted to become an officer, but...."

 

"I'm sorry."

 

Shiro shook his head, genuinely smiling as he did so. He slurped his drink again. "That was a long time ago," he said. "I'm over it. It all shook out."

 

With the story over and Lance's curiosity sated, a whisper of guilt crept in through his ears. He smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry I asked such a personal question."

 

"Most people are too afraid to ask," Shiro responded, still grinning. How he managed to keep up that kind of positive attitude all the time was really amazing. "I don't mind answering."

 

The whole conversation was surprising, considering how personal Shiro seemed to be. Maybe Lance just didn't know him well enough yet, but that reminded him of the entire point of their talk in the first place.

 

"So you really think Keith is fine?" he asked. Shiro's answering laugh could have been read as mocking, but Lance didn't want to interpret it like that.

 

"Wait him out," Shiro offered. "He'll come around. Sometimes we just need space to deal with things."

 

Lance huffed and dropped his chin onto his hand. "What kind of things?"

 

"You have to ask him about that," Shiro said with a shake of his head. "Keith has a few war stories of his own."

 

  
...

  
**Corny-beef: Hanging in there?**

**Um. yes? :Cherrybob-omb**

**Corny-beef: Lance is worried about you.**  
**Corny-beef: we got coffee today**

**What?? :Cherrybob-omb**

**Corny-beef: Are you okay?**

**I told him I was fine :Cherrybob-omb**

**Corny-beef: I know**

**I can take care of myself :Cherrybob-omb**

**Corny-beef: It's not that I think you can't. I'm just worried that you won't.**

**I'm fine. really. :Cherrybob-omb**

**Corny-beef: I trust you**

**Thank you :Cherrybob-omb**

**Corny-beef: Don't be mad at Lance**

**I'm going to kill him :Cherrybob-omb**

  
...

 

  
Their Wednesday morning lab rolled around, and Lance was nothing but a pain in the ass. He was wearing the Santa hat again ("It's fashionable, and functional!" "How is it possibly functional?" "With the hat on there's no way to tell that I still have bedhead. I have an image to uphold, unlike a certain lab partner of mine."), and the cheery, hyperactive attitude he had going couldn't be anything but overcompensation.

 

Sure, Keith wasn't helping much with the bad attitude he himself had going, but at least he was more than willing to keep it to himself, if Lance would let him. Lance wouldn't let him, and he was bouncing all over the place and quickly driving Keith insane. By the time their lab was over, Keith was bowing out of their study session at the library and making a beeline for his dorm room.

 

He needed to get work done, but at this rate, he'd be better off without the tutoring.

 

Despite his best efforts, Lance, Pidge, and Hunk cornered him later that evening in the dining commons. He was starving after just getting off a short shift at work (he'd forgotten to eat at all earlier that day), and was hoping to grab food and go at the cafeteria.

 

His new friends weren't about to let that happened.

 

Keith got dragged over to a table, and he did his best to act friendly while they joked and chatted throughout the meal. At one point Lance tried to steal a fry off of his plate, and Keith had whapped him across the knuckles with his fork. Pidge met Keith's eyes over the table, face plastered with a smirk.

 

"Kinky," she said. Hunk groaned and hid his eyes behind his hand. Lance laughed and slung an arm around Keith's shoulders, hanging off of him like a sloth. Keith made himself put on a grin.

 

After dinner was over, he shut down invitations to hang out and hinted as politely as he could to Lance that he'd rather go back to his dorm room alone. He didn't miss the hurt that flashed through Lance's eyes, but he also didn't do anything to fix it. Maybe if Lance's feelings were hurt, he'd give Keith the space he needed to breathe, and they could put it all back together once finals were over.

 

He'd had enough socialization for the week, he decided.

 

The next day, when Lance surprised him in the library, Keith was just about losing his mind.

 

He was in the library getting some work done. Shiro agreed to meet him there at five, and Keith had for a few hours when his phone started to ring. He must have forgotten to put it on silent, he figured, as he dug around in his book bag to find it. It was all the way at the bottom, crushed under a textbook. When he saw the words 'Nursing Home' on the caller ID, he didn't spare another second of hesitation before answering.

 

With the way his luck worked, the day he ignored a call from the nursing home was the day something irreversible happened. Keith wasn't pushing it.

 

Nothing horrible was going down. It was just "one of those days," as the nurse on the phone explained to him. "We thought talking to you might help."

 

Keith's grandfather had been doing pretty well all through the semester, but Keith wasn't surprised that he was going downhill with the holidays. Christmas was bad and confusing for Sung, and his memory was failing him worse than ever. Keith didn't know what the nurses hoped Keith could accomplish by talking to him.

 

"Grandpa," he said, as soon as Sung's voice appeared on the other end. "How are you doing?"

 

"Who is this?" was the immediate reply. "Who are you?"

 

"Grandpa, it's Keith."

 

"Who?"

 

"Your grandson. I live in Las Vegas, remember?" Sometimes the 'Vegas' fact helped jolt him memory. Keith wasn't sure what it was about that one in particular, but it worked more often than anything else he tried. 'Grandpa, you raised me for a few years, remember?' 'Your daughter's kid? You wanted me to be a master martial artist, remember?' 'I'm the one that went to juvie? Your fuck up kid's fuck up kid.' 'Grandpa, don't you remember me? You gave me back to the state.'

 

Today it didn't work, and sometimes it made Keith angry that they'd never get to have that argument. That he'd never be able to lay down every horrible thing his grandparents had let happen to him and say his piece on the matter. He could never have his 'if they could see me now' moment, letting every disappointing secret fly and throwing it all back in his face, because the truth was, his grandfather probably wouldn't even recognize him on a good day.

 

He tried a dozen different things, mentioning Christmas and his mother and the nursing home, to no avail. Then his grandfather started to freak, yelling and swearing and dissolving into Korean phrases that Keith couldn't understand at all. His grandfather had always wanted him to learn Korean. He'd never gotten around to it.

 

Eventually, the phone was pulled away from Sung, and a nurse was once again speaking to him. "Keith, sweetheart," she said, because she'd worked there for a long time, and she was one of the ladies who actually knew him. "Looks like today isn't a good day. Thank you for trying."

 

Keith hung up the phone and dropped his head onto the table, and that, of course, was when Lance showed up.

 

So Keith was already having a bad day. Lance popping up out of nowhere and saying, "Wow, that sounds rough," and sitting down as if he'd been invited (he hadn't) only made it worse.

 

Keith narrowed his eyes. "Were you eaves dropping?"

 

"I just happened to overhear," Lance argued with a shrug of his shoulders. "What are you doing here, anyways?"

 

Keith looked between his open textbooks on the desk's surface and Lance with the blankest expression he could manage. "Um," he said. "Studying?" The duh went unsaid. Lance's raised eyebrow meant that he caught it.

 

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Lance asked, tone of voice edging on pissy. Keith wondered when it became Lance's business whether he slept or not. Probably when Lance decided it was okay to go behind his back and talk to Shiro about him.

 

"What do you care?" he snapped back, and this time both of Lance's eyebrows shot up.

 

"Wow... okay."

 

They were silent for a while, Keith doing his best to look like he was diligently studying the open book in front of him while Lance stared off into space. They were on the fourth floor of the library, tucked into a study corner behind the bookshelves. It wasn't a quiet space, and the library was still mostly empty on the top floors. They were free to talk as much as they wanted. Keith didn't really want to.

 

"So that was your grandfather, huh?" Lance asked after a while. Keith didn't bother trying to conceal a sigh as he shut his biology textbook.

 

"Yep."

 

"You going to visit him for Christmas?"

 

"Nope."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Can't afford the plane ticket. I'm staying on campus." Keith kept his voice flat, doing his best to convey that he didn't want to be having this conversation. Either Lance didn't notice, or he didn't care.

 

"All break?" Lance insisted, face looking shocked. Lance was going home, of course. He had a big, wonderful family, and they'd all be together for the holidays the way they were every year. He talked about it almost constantly, he was so excited. Keith tried his hardest not to hate him for it.

 

"No where else to go," Keith answered. "Not like I'm going to stay in the nursing home."

 

Lance asked, "What about the rest of your family?" and Keith didn't even bother with an answer, instead letting out one single laugh.

 

That made Lance drop silent for another long moment, and Keith was foolish enough to think he was finally going to shut up this time. It wasn't s minute later that Lance was snapping his fingers. "You can come to Christmas at my house," he offered. "It's kind of crowded, but what's one more person? My mom is always inviting people over. She'd love you!"

 

Keith was far too tired to be having this conversation. As every minute ticked away on the clock on the wall across the room, Keith felt the anxiety in his chest tighten a bit.

 

"Thanks," he said. "But no thanks."

 

Lance was visibly taken aback by that. "You don't have to be rude about it."

 

Keith sighed loudly and squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Look, Lance, I'm kind of busy here-"

 

"You've been saying that all week." Lance's voice was aggressive as he said it. Keith knew realistically that this was his own fault, but that didn't stop him from getting defensive.

 

"I've been busy all week," he snapped back.

 

"If you want me to go away you can just say so," Lance replied, just as snippy. Tempting as that was, Keith wasn't actually an asshole. "Did I do something to piss you off?"

 

"No."

 

"Then what's your deal?"

 

"I have a lot of studying to do, okay?" Keith hissed out through clenched teeth, patience letting loose and flying out the window.

 

"Take a break," Lance argued.

 

"You go ahead, I'll pass."

 

Lance scoffed and rolled his eyes, and Keith found himself grinding his teeth tighter. "You take this too seriously," Lance told him. Keith glared at him.

 

"You don't take this seriously enough!"

 

Lance narrowed his eyes right back, hands balling into fists where they rested against his thighs. "Oh, sorry I'm not killing myself over my grades. What was it again? Some scholarship?"

  
It wasn't just some scholarship, but there were secrets about his life that Keith wasn't ready to tell yet. "You wouldn't understand," he said. He wasn't expecting that simple sentence to set Lance off.

 

"Don't tell me what I don't understand!" he snapped. "I'm not an idiot!"

 

"I lose that scholarship, and I lose everything."

 

Lance rolled his eyes and smacked his hands down on the table. "Way to be overdramatic," he said. "Would you just talk to me like a normal person?"

 

"No." Keith didn't have to explain himself to people who shouted in the library. He stood up, gather his books into a haphazard pile and shoving them into his backpack. "Do me a favor and stop checking up on me." He swung his bag over his shoulder, turned on heel, and marched away. He didn't look back over his shoulder, but he also didn't hear footsteps behind him. Lance didn't follow him, and Keith had plenty of time to brood as he stormed down four flights of stairs and out the door.

 

He couldn't explain why he was so worked up over this. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was fighting with Lance, who he'd secretly been hoping things would work out with. He'd been having a bit more fun with him than he wanted to admit, but, well... he'd kind of shot that horse in the face, hadn't he?

 

Whatever it was, Keith wasn't sure. All he knew was that when he bumped into Shiro right outside the doors of the library, and Shiro frowned and gripped him by the shoulders and asked what was wrong, Keith crumpled.

 

He wasn't crying, and it wasn't a panic attack. It felt a lot like dropping into subspace, quickly and without warning, leaving Keith dizzy and exhausted and trembling. It felt a lot like drowning.

 

"Whoa, hey," Shiro said, pulling him in closer until Keith was wrapped up in his arms, Shiro's shoulder bag fallen and hanging from the crook of his elbow between them. "Did something happen?"

 

Keith shook his head and pressed closer to Shiro's shoulder. Shiro, by the mercy of God, didn't let go of him.

 

"Are you okay?"

 

Keith managed to croak out, "I'm fine," though he wasn't sure Shiro believed him.

 

"Let's study at my place, yeah?"

 

Keith swallowed around the lump in his throat and forced himself to put some space back between him and Shiro. He tried not to be absolutely useless. "Yeah," he agreed.

 

Shiro still had both hands firmly on his shoulders, and he looked him over with concerned eyes before nodding and pulling him close again. Keith wasn't expecting Shiro's lips to press against his forehead, but he wasn't exactly shoving him away either.

 

"Come on," Shiro said, mumbling against his skin. Keith's eyes slipped closed and he let out a breath. "Let's get out of here."

 

"Okay."

 

"Alright."

 

  
...

 

  
"Coran, I need love advice," Lance said, slumping morosely over the cash wrap and letting his arms dangle over the edge like vines. Coran glanced up from the shirts he was price checking and itched his mustache.

 

"Oh do you now?"

 

"How do you apologize to someone when you're not sure why they're mad at you?" he asked, not willing to spread out the whole situation for Coran's benefit. If he really needed, he could tell Pidge what happened, and the two of them could lay out a time line of the relationship and pin point what went wrong where. Lance wasn't sure what went wrong. Things were fine, great even! They'd had the scene at the play party, and things were really starting to pick up. The Keith had started acting all weird, and now Lance had ruined it. He just wasn't sure how.

 

"Women like flowers," Coran answered after a moment of thought. "Let her sit you down, and she'll explain it all to you, I'm sure."

 

That didn't really help Lance's situation. Keith, ponytail or not, was the farthest thing from a woman that Lance had ever dated. He considered for a moment.

 

"What did you do for Alfor?" he asked.

 

Coran looked a little startled, there was no doubt about that. He mulled over the question for a while, staring at Lance with an expression that slowly became more and more understanding.

 

"With Alfor...." He trailed off, cleared his throat, tried again. "Alfor liked homemade meals," he said after a while. "He liked knowing I was making an effort to understand." Something twinkled in Coran's eyes as he grinned, and this next part felt like he was telling a secret.

 

"He also liked flowers," Coran said. "I'm sure just about everyone likes flowers."


	16. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “'You heard me, sweetheart,' was the reply, coming from a voice Keith didn’t recognize. 'Be a good little sub and go get me a drink.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day????? you betcha.

Altea was busy as hell that night.Music was blasting over the speakers as per usual, and everything looked almost iridescent from the combination of the low lit floor, the red highlights along the ceiling, and the spotlights on stage.It was in full swing around eight-thirty p.m., the room purring happily with the din of conversation.On stage someone was being slowly bound head to toe in red ropes, strung up from the ceiling and floor like they were caught in a spider web, and Keith spared a second to think that Lance would probably _love_ that before getting mad at himself. 

 

Right.Lance.He’d really dropped the ball on that one, hadn’t he? 

 

Keith wished above all wishes that he hadn’t let Shiro drag him out tonight.He’d rather have stayed in, kept chipping away at the mountain of work that had to be done, and spent the evening in calm, blissful silence. 

 

Sure, he was starting to go crazy in the ‘calm, blissful silence,’ enough so that he had a white noise machine playing almost constantly on his laptop, just to get his ears to stop ringing.At least at Altea it was too loud for that.It would have been calming, if the amount of noise wasn’t setting him on edge. 

 

Shiro wasn’t having these problems.Shiro was having the time of his life.Keith trailed him through the club like a lost puppy dog, smiling politely whenever anyone spoke to him but letting Shiro take on the brunt of the conversations that were started.Shiro was the popular one, after all.Shiro ate this socializing stuff up for breakfast. 

 

Allura appeared a few times, pausing long enough to murmur a joke or a piece of gossip to them before tapping Shiro gently on the jaw and flittering away again.Keith didn’t know what game they were playing tonight, if they were playing a game at all.What Shiro and Allura did was interesting, no doubt about it, but it also wasn’t any of Keith’s concern. 

 

Something else was definitely a concern of Keith’s, though, and that something was standing across the room chatting away, all bright smiles and long legs.Keith saw Lance standing there and just about threw up. 

 

“Hey, what’s up?You okay?” Shiro asked.He always had an eye for details, including changes in mood and body language both in and out of the scene.Keith couldn’t get away with _anything_ , but he could try.He quickly pulled his gaze away and nodded. Luckily, Shiro didn’t seem to catch on. 

 

Keith hadn’t expected Lance to be there.He wasn’t sure why he’d been so certain he _wouldn’t_ be there, but there they were.He’d gotten a ride with Shiro that evening.After carpooling with Lance _and_ Shiro a number of times, Keith had just assumed that Lance wouldn’t be there if he wasn’t in the car.Lance apparently had other ways of getting around.Of course he did.Keith was such an idiot. 

 

He stayed close to Shiro’s side and kept his head down, something that he was grateful was a pretty normal behavior during events like Altea. Sometimes people liked to scene at these things, showing up in collars and leashes or full on fetish wear, kneeling at their partner’s chairs or even wearing gags.Seeing that kind of stuff was an occupational hazard that came with the territory. 

 

If Keith kept his head ducked and his hands clasped behind his back and stuck as close to Shiro’s side as he could possibly manage, everyone would just assume they were playing with protocol that night.They’d seen Keith bottom for Shiro before anyways.It was a good cover. 

 

Keith just hoped that keeping his head down kept Lance from noticing him.Keith had been ignoring him since the conversation at the library, screening his calls and staying away from any public place where they might risk bumping into each other.This time around, Lance wasn’t trying terribly hard to keep in touch with him.That was how Keith knew he’d fucked this up.He was a little bit more than bummed about it. 

 

Not bummed enough to try and fix it yet, though, because Keith knew himself.Keith could apologize, but he couldn’t explain what was wrong.He could get Lance to forgive him, but then he’d go straight back to being distant and quiet and overall entirely an idiot. 

 

Acknowledging a behavior and stopping it were two very different things. 

 

Keith hadn’t planned to leave Shiro’s side all evening, he really hadn’t.Then Allura had shown up again and dragged Shiro away, declaring official business as board members for the TNG group, saying that Kolivan had some great idea for an event but it was totally secret, sorry Keith. 

 

Shiro told Keith to text him if he needed to, which was a dead give away that Keith wasn’t hiding his bad mood as well as he’d thought he was.Keith nodded, already knowing he wasn’t going to.Keith could take care of himself for half an hour. 

 

Or at least he thought so. 

 

Without meaning to at all, Keith ended up standing just a few feet away from Lance.He hadn’t realized it; he’d been leaning against a far wall and cradling a sweating can of coke in his hands when Lance’s voice caught his attention.His stomach dropped to his knees and his ears perked up.He planned to push off the wall and find a different corner to haunt, but then Lance’s words caught his attention and stopped him in his tracks. 

 

“Um, _excuse_ me?” It wasn’t so much the words as the way he said them that had Keith becoming alert.It was that snotty, ready-to-throw-down tone of voice that he got whenever they’d argued.Keith heard it a lot when they were studying.He was unfortunately accustomed to Lance’s pissed off voice by now. 

 

“You heard me, sweetheart,” was the reply, coming from a voice Keith didn’t recognize.“Be a good little sub and go get me a drink.” 

 

Lance stammered at that, apparently at a loss for words, which was a fair response to that kind of demand.Keith turned to look, and he wasn’t sure if Lance was actually blushing or if it was just from the red lights shining overhead.His shoulders were raised up to his ears, either way, and he looked wildly uncomfortable.It wasn’t so much a ‘let’s fight’ posture as it was a ‘don’t hurt me’ one. 

 

“I… I don’t….”

 

“Don’t make me lose my patience, boy.” 

 

Keith had a very particular hatred for the kind of person Lance was currently cornered by.He tried to convince himself that _that_ was why he marched the short distance over to them, not because of _Lance_.He would have done it for anybody. 

 

And hell, maybe he would have, but he probably wouldn’t have felt this protective as he did it. 

 

He didn’t have a plan of action, and he realized it too late, when he was just barely a foot away from them.The jerk turned to him and raised an eyebrow, which drew Lance’s attention as well.Lance looked surprised, but not particularly like he was about to tell Keith to go to hell, so he figured they were fine for now. 

 

Thinking fast and scrambling for a plan, Keith threaded his arm through Lance’s and said, “Hey babe.” 

 

Lance, legendary actor that he was, stared back for a good three seconds with an open mouth.“Um… hi… darling.” 

 

Well, okay.Keith could work with that.He thought back to the first thing he’d heard the asshole standing across from them say, and considered the pop can he was still holding.In a stroke of what he considered to be genius (compared to his usually subpar acting skills), he shoved the can into Lance’s hand and said, “Got that drink you asked for, sir,” and kissed him on the cheek.Maybe if the guy thought they were already buddied up, he’d find someone else to go creep on, and he figured that painting Lance to be the dom would only help through the guy off balance.

 

Lance was definitely blushing this time, but his recovery time was a hundred times faster.He smirked and bumped his shoulder against Keith’s. “Good boy,” he said, obviously fully on board with the plan.“Took you long enough.” 

 

“I’ll do better next time,” Keith answered, and the guy in front of them had just about had enough, apparently. 

 

“Who the hell is this?” he asked Lance.Keith considered letting Lance answer, but he was already on a role.He lifted his chin and met the man’s glare, untangling himself from Lance to cross his arms over his chest.

 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said. 

 

“Who are you?” the guy spat. “His sub?” Keith felt something like embarrassment stirring from the way the man said it, as if it were a bad thing, even thought Keith knew it wasn’t. 

 

Keith got out the word, “Sometimes,” and planned on continuing before Lance plowed right over him. 

 

Lance snapped back with as much vehemence as Keith had ever heard him use.“That’s none of your fucking business.” 

 

“You’re a mouthy little thing, aren’t you?Ought to let me teach you some manners.”The man reached up, and his fingertips had just barely brushed Lance’s cheek before Lance jerked his head away and Keith stepped forward. 

 

“Don’t touch him,” he barked.“Not your sub, not his consent.Leave him alone.” 

 

The man’s replying chuckle was enough to make Keith’s stomach churn. “You don’t get to say no.” 

 

It was the words that set him off, he was pretty sure.Words that matched his latest nightmare, oozing with so much disrespect and distain that Keith felt like he was made of fire.Had him thinking back to Lance sitting on his bed, scared and ashamed as he told the story of someone ignoring his safe word before. 

 

He felt a furious, boiling with an anger he hadn’t felt in years and seeing red.It reminded him of being a little kid on the playground, the teasing that would go on, the fights that would break out because of it. 

 

Keith wasn’t a child anymore, but his reaction was very much the same.The man reached out and touched Lance as he spoke, as he said, “You don’t get to say no,” and as soon as his hand graced the side of Lance’s neck, Keith’s fist was making direct contact with the man’s nose.

 

They must have drawn some attention with their argument, or maybe Thace had been nearby anyways.All Keith knew was that the guy shouted, “You little piece of shit!” and swung, and Keith got hit right across the face before there were hands dragging them away from each other. 

 

Keith struggled against Lance’s hold on him, and the other guy glowered back at him.There was blood dripping from his nose and running down his face, a bloom of a bruise already forming. Keith smirked in sick satisfaction. _Good_. 

 

Despite the week he’d had and the knowledge that he was in a hell of a lot of trouble, Keith was awful proud of himself. 

 

Shiro was not. 

 

“What the _hell_ is going on here?” he roared, stepping between the two and using a voice that could easily be mistaken for a drill sergeant.Keith tugged against Lance’s hold on him.The other guy balled his hands into fists and stayed still. 

 

“He hit me!” he shouted, earning him a tug back from Thace.Keith wasn’t about to let himself get thrown under the bus for this. 

 

“He violated consent!It was self-defense!” 

 

“You impudent little brat!”

 

“Oh fucking bite me, old man!” 

 

“Enough!” Shiro planted a hand in the middle of Keith’s chest and pushed him back, sending him stumbling into Lance and finally putting an end to his struggling.He hadn’t realized he was breathing heavy until then.Lance wrapped an arm around Keith’s middle and held on. 

 

The lights came up and the music died down.The club owner stormed over and threatened to call the cops, and it took the entirety of the TNG board as well as Thace and Kolivan to talk him out of it.A steely glare from Shiro prompted Keith to apologize to the club owner, and after a good fifteen minutes of angry conversation, the club owner agreed not to involve the police.

 

The jerk with the bloody nose didn’t agree quite as easily.“I should have you arrested for battery!” he snapped. 

 

Shiro wasn’t even giving Keith a chance to speak for himself at this point, instead stepping up to the man and saying, “Go ahead and call the cops to a BDSM event.Explain what exactly you were doing to get this guy to hit you.Go ahead.” 

 

He backed down pretty quickly. 

 

It was good to know Shiro was on his side.It was less good to have Shiro’s unbridled rage aimed directly at him. 

 

“I want him out of here!” The club owner threw an arm out to motion at Keith after the jerk declared the club was overrated anyways and stormed out the door.Shiro nodded, pulling his car keys out and dropping them into Keith’s hand. 

 

“Thace will walk you out to make sure it’s safe” he said, not a suggestion.An order.“Wait for me.Lance, am I driving you home?” 

 

Keith had never heard Lance sound quite as meek as he did in that moment.“Yes please,” he said. 

 

“Okay.” 

 

So Keith’s day had officially gone from bad to worse. Not only had he spent an hour feeling totally miserable, he’d also pissed off all his friends and damn near got himself arrested, and now he was trapped in the front seat of Shiro’s car with Lance, of all people. 

 

This was not Keith’s best week ever. 

 

The fact that Lance was apparently talking to him may or may not have been a good thing.The jury was still out on that one. 

 

“So…” he said after a spell of silence.Keith sat in the passenger seat, a new, cold pop can pressed to his aching face.He’d have a bruise tomorrow. Fantastic.Lance said, “That was kind of cool,” and shot Keith a sheepish expression from his place in the driver’s seat. 

 

The windows were cracked open and cool night air stirred around in the car with them.They were parked a short way’s away from a streetlight, bathing them both in a cascade of artificial yellow and shadows.Keith wondered what he himself looked at.Lance was glowing. 

 

“He deserved it,”Keith grumbled, letting his breath out in a labored sigh.“I shouldn’t have done that, though.” 

 

Lance shrugged and grinned.“Like you said, he deserved it.”He reached underneath the seat and pulled the lever to shove the seat back, slouching down and extending his long legs as far as he could.Shiro would be grumpy about having to put it back.“Thanks, y’know… for helping me out there.” 

 

“You can’t let people get away with treating you like that,” Keith responded, glaring again with a relit anger bubbling in his gut.“Some people think they can do whatever they want to you, if you’re a submissive or whatever.They’re full of shit.” 

 

The silence that stretched on between them felt heavy and uncomfortable.Keith watched the tiny green numbers on the dashboard clock switch from 9:46 to 9:47 before Lance spoke again. 

 

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice soft and careful. 

 

“Will you believe me if I say yes?” Keith responded. 

 

This answer was instantaneous.“No.” 

 

Keith nodded a bit.“No. I will be.It’s not your fault, okay?” 

 

“I thought you were mad at me.Coran told me to buy you flowers.” 

 

That brought a smile to Keith’s face whether he liked it or not.He shook his head.“Don’t buy me flowers.” 

 

“Not even roses?” 

 

Keith shot him a look and said, “I’m not the girl in this relationship,” pleased with the outraged squawk that got out of Lance. 

 

“I take offense to that.I’m ten times more macho then you are, buddy.”

 

“Now you just sound like a fuck boy.” 

 

“At least I’m a _boy_ , mister pony tail.” Lance reached over and tugged at a piece of Keith’s hair, none too gently.Keith turned and glared at him. 

 

“Don’t make me hurt you,” he said.

 

Lance smirked back at him and winked, “And then what?” he asked, voice tilting upwards with suggestion. Keith dropped the soda can into his lap and groaned. 

 

They laughed at that, air light between them as they stared quietly across the parking lot.With the events of the past two weeks, Keith had damn near forgotten how comfortable it felt to be around Lance like this.When they weren’t arguing about schoolwork or griping at each other about Christmas break, it was actually pretty nice to just spend time with each other.

 

Then of course, Lance had to go and ruin it, but Keith figured he owed him at least part of an explanation.“Are you really that worried about some scholarship?” he asked.“I mean, I get it.School is expensive and all.But there’s loans and stuff, right?It’s not the end of the world.”

 

Keith sighed and stared out the window.If he didn’t give Lance some sort of an explanation, this conversation would never be over.He’d learned by now that Lance was just as stubborn as he was.They could probably keep this up forever. 

 

“You know what my scholarship is called?” he asked.He assumed the rustling he heard was Lance shaking his head. “It’s called the ‘second chance scholarship,’ which is a nice way of saying ‘you fucked up the first time.Good luck.’They don’t expect kids like me to make it.” 

 

“Oh come on,” Lance said.“You couldn’t have fucked up that bad.” 

 

Keith turned his head and leveled Lance with a stony expression.He didn’t tell many people what he was about to tell Lance, but it had been a long, laboring week.If he didn’t get something, _anything_ , off his chest, he was probably going to explode. 

 

“My mom was an addict.I saw her once every few months until she died when I was eight.My dad dropped me off at my grandparent’s house when I was little and never came back.They decided I was too much trouble and gave me over to the state when I was ten.I lived with them again in high school, but I couldn’t take care of them well enough to keep them out of the nursing home.I’ve been to juvie.I almost failed out of high school and ruined my chances of getting emancipated.Everyone my whole life has been telling me I’m going to fail, and if I lose this God damn scholarship this semester, I’m proving them right.” 

 

Keith’s hands were shaking by the time he finished his little rant, and he shoved them stubbornly into his pockets and shot Lance a defiant glare.For the first time, Lance didn’t have a smart remark for that.He sat there absolutely silent.Keith felt sick.

 

“That enough?” he asked.“I can keep going.” 

 

Lance shook his head and held a hand up.“No, just….” He took a deep breath, the type of breath that looked painful, and he closed his eyes as he began to speak.“I was in special ed through fourth grade,” he confessed.“My first language was Spanish, and it took me a while to catch up.That, and my ADHD… I’m bad at math.I was the kid that they told ‘no, don’t worry.not everyone goes to college.’I’m not supposed to be here either, but I worked my ass off, y’know?” 

 

This time Keith was the surprised one.“I had no idea…” he murmured. 

 

Lance glanced over at him and shot Keith a smile.“We made it this far, didn’t we?” he asked.“That has to count for something.” 

 

Keith didn’t have anything to say to that, so he just nodded numbly and waited for Lance to speak again.Lance didn’t let him down.“So why med school?” 

 

Keith shrugged and rolled his pop can between his palms.“Being a doctor feels like the opposite of failing.Why do you want to be a teacher?” 

 

Lance’s smile was dazzling and directed straight at Keith, making him feel like he was lighting up from the inside out.“So I cant help the kids who feel like idiots.” 

 

Keith’s reply came instantly.“You’re not an idiot.”Lance laughed. 

 

“I know that now,” he said.“It just took me a while.”He shot Keith a smile, and Keith smiled right back.He wasn’t sure where the conversation would have gone next if Shiro hadn’t interrupted. 

 

He opened the driver’s side door, and Lance scrambled into the backseat, climbing over the center console and kicking Keith in the head as he went.Keith laughed and swatted at him.Lance stuck his head between the seats and grinned. 

 

Shiro wasn’t quite as lighthearted as he started the car and began the drive back to campus in silence. 

 

Lance and Keith both stayed quiet as well, Keith glancing over at Shiro every few minutes, trying to read his mind or pick up some kind of clue as to what the older man was thinking.After the fourth or fifth time, Shiro sighed loudly and shook his head. 

 

“I know you had a good reason,” he said.“But that doesn’t make it okay.” 

 

Maybe Keith should have kept his curious glances to himself and avoided the lecture.“I know,” he said.Shiro continued. 

 

“If someone’s doing something inappropriate you tell a monitor.You don’t punch them in the face.” 

 

“It was self-defense,” Keith argued half-heartedly. 

 

Shiro’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.“I don’t care.We risked getting shut down tonight.We’ve had that arrangement with Altea for years.You know it’s risky to have an event like that in the first place.If the cops had been called a lot of people could have gotten in trouble.” 

 

Keith knew all of this already, but somehow hearing it from Shiro made him feeling about two inches tall. He glanced guiltily out the window.“I’m sorry.” 

 

“You could get yourself expelled from school pulling stunts like that.”

 

“I _know_ , Shiro,” Keith grumbled.Shiro glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow.Lance piped up from the backseat.

 

“He was defending me,” he said.“You shouldn’t be so mad at him.That guy was a creep.” 

 

Shiro glanced into the rearview mirror and sighed.He rolled to a stop at a red light and rubbed both hands over his face.He looked older than he normally did, more tired.“I doubt he’ll be back any time soon,” he said.“We have him on a watch list anyways.” 

 

That brought up an important question.“Am I on a list now…?” he asked.

 

Shiro glanced over at him before the light turned green and he started them forward again.“The board wants a formal apology, but no.They’re not kicking you out.” 

 

Keith didn’t realize he was so worried about that until Shiro said that, and relief washed over him like a wave.He sighed and sunk back in his seat.“Okay.” 

 

“They like you too much to get rid of you, brat,” Shiro told him.“Just watch yourself, okay?” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

 

 

…

 

 

Shiro dropped them off in the parking lot and waited in the car as they made their way into their dorm building.Keith was following Lance, hanging close and standing back as Lance unlocked the door and pressed the call button for the elevator. 

 

“Can I come over?” Lance asked him, before he could lose his nerve.He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and rocked on his heels, watching as the lights indicated the floors as they passed them.He wouldn’t be surprised if Keith said no.He really wanted him to say yes. 

 

“I have a lot of studying to get done…” was Keith’s answer, which wasn’t a yes or a no either way. Lance decided to run with it. 

 

He crossed his arms over his chest and dawned his best serious expression.“Keith Kogane,” he said, sounding a lot like Pidge when she was lecturing.“It is eleven p.m. on a Sunday night.You are _not_ doing homework now.” 

 

Keith’s expression was not amused.“It’s study week,” he argued, but Lance wasn’t going to hear it. 

 

“Nope.You’re grounded from studying.We’re going back to your room, and you’re going to relax if it kills you.” 

 

Keith raised both eyebrows, but he didn’t argue.Instead he asked, “Oh, so you’re in charge now?” 

 

Lance nodded once, definitively.“You bet your ass I am.God knows you can’t take care of yourself, so I’m going to do it.”Keith grinned and rolled his eyes.When the elevator stopped on his floor, he didn’t argue as Lance followed him into the hallway. 

 

“Besides,” Lance continued.“I liked hearing you call me ‘sir’ earlier. That should be a thing.” 

 

“So now I’m taking orders?” Keith asked, unlocking his dorm room and stepping inside.It was a disaster zone in there, the whole place a mess of laundry and textbooks, papers and take out boxes and empty cardboard coffee cups. 

 

“Lord help you,” Lance said, looking around.“What would my mother say?” 

 

“If you try ordering me to clean my room tonight, I’m kicking you out on your ass,” Keith grumbled. 

 

Lance hadn’t really been planning on doing that, but now he was imaging Keith in a maid costume, and _damn_ that was tempting.He shook his head.“No,” he said. “My first order is to put some pajamas on.And take a shower.Seriously, do you ever bathe?” 

 

“Ha,” Keith said dryly, peeling his shirt over his head and dropping it on the floor on his way to the bathroom.“Don’t touch anything while I’m in here.” 

 

“You have my sacred oath.” 

 

It wasn’t ten minutes later that Keith was back and dripping, wearing nothing but a pair of oversized sweat pants and pushing his wet hair off his face.He threw a spare t-shirt at Lance, and Lance changed into it, stripping away his shoes and socks and jeans.

 

Keith tried to argue that, “Really, Lance, I’m not tired,” but almost immediately after they curled up under the covers, Keith’s breathing evened out and he pressed more closely against Lance’s side.Lance didn’t mind the wet spot Keith’s hair left on his shirt, or the extra heat that came from having another body tucked so close into his. He flipped the light switch off and wrapped his arm around Keith’s shoulder’s pulling him closer.Keith clutched onto him, fingers subconsciously curling into the fabric of Lance’s borrowed t-shirt. Lance let his eyes fall closed and hoped that maybe, this time, they would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't leave ya'll with another angsty keith chapter for a whole week. I just couldn't. 
> 
> Remember, a person isn't your dom unless you BOTH agree that they are, and you don't have to take orders from anybody. Maybe don't go punching people in the face, but definitely don't take anyone's shit. Your preference/orientation should not dictate how people treat you.


	17. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Keith, the absolute idiot, burst out laughing."

“That’s it, I’ve had enough,” Lance declared around three p.m. on Monday.  He was sprawled out on Keith’s bed, the same as he’d been for the past four hours.  Keith had woken up first that morning around nine a.m., and he’d spent half an hour trying to get Lance to wake up too.  His face had been throbbing a little bit (there was a beautiful bruise blooming on his cheekbone from their altercation the night before), and it had been more than tempting to snuggle back into Lance and sleep the rest of the morning away, but Keith had things to get done.

 

He shook Lance awake and dragged him out of bed with the promises of coffee and cafeteria breakfast.  A little bit before eleven, they were back in Keith’s dorm room, properly fed and holding cardboard cups of energy.  Lance had claimed the bed, Keith had claimed the desk, and they’d gotten down to work. 

 

Keith was honestly surprised that Lance had kept it together that long. 

 

“I’m not done yet,” Keith answered him, not bothering to tear his eyes away from the math problems he was working through.  Somehow every equation he learned before Halloween had flown from his brain like a bat out of hell.  He’d never seen this stuff in his life, he was sure of it.  In other words, he was a little screwed. 

 

“You’re done for now.  Close the books, Kogane.”  

 

Keith had been willing to play along with the ‘Lance is in charge’ game the night before, when he’d been sore and exhausted and Lance’s demands had been warm and inviting.  In the light of day, not so much.  Had he thought this was any sort of serious attempt, Keith would have promptly informed him that he could take care of his own damn self, thank you very much.  But this was Lance they were talking about, so he didn’t bother.  Just rolled his shoulders and kept his book open. 

 

“Close your own, I’m busy,” he replied.  There were some shuffling noises behind him that Keith didn’t look up to acknowledge, and then there were tan hands reaching around and snatching his book out from under him, and Keith was jumping up out of his chair. 

 

“Give it back,” he said, trying for irritation but unable to wipe the smile off his face.  Lance smiled back, bright and taunting. 

 

“Come take it from me.” 

 

Keith tried, he really did, but Lance had an advantage in the form of a longer wingspan and unending amounts of energy.  They ended up chasing each other around the room for five minutes, launching themselves over furniture and tripping over clothes, bouncing all over the twelve by twelve space and somehow making an even bigger mess than had been there before.

 

Keith was out of breath, panting and overheated, when he decided he’d had enough.  Instead of trying to grab his book back, or just ‘tag’ Lance like he’d been trying before, he hooked one foot behind Lance’s ankle and wrapped his arm around his chest, using their momentum to pull Lance’s legs out from under them and throw them both to the ground. 

 

Lance landed flat on his back on a pile of forgotten laundry, and Keith fell with a heavy thump onto his chest a split second later, effectively knocking the wind out of the both of them.  He was mostly just grateful they didn’t smack heads together.  Keith needed a second, stunned, and he dropped his head onto Lance’s shoulder while he remembered how to breathe.  

 

Lance recovered faster, though, and the second he did, he raised Keith’s textbook above his head and chucked it across the room.  Keith was up immediately, scrambling across the room and throwing himself onto his bed, where his book had landed after bouncing off the wall. 

 

His fingers curled around it, and he shouted triumphantly.  Then Lance jumped on top of him, and they were once again rolling. 

 

“Let go!” Keith shouted, trying desperately to hold onto his book, push Lance off of him, and keep himself from falling off the bed all at the same time.  Lance was not cooperating. 

 

“You let go!” 

 

There were more words exchanged, several things in Spanish that Keith was certain Lance’s mother wouldn’t have been happy to hear.  He ended up with his fingers in Lance’s mouth at some point, but he quickly withdrew them after he got bit. 

 

“You’re like an animal!” he shouted, earning him a suggestive eyebrow waggle. 

 

“Only in bed.” 

 

Keith groaned.  Lance wasn’t nearly as funny as he thought he was, but he provided enough of a distraction that Lance was able to shove the textbook off the bed and pin both of Keith’s wrists down.  

 

They froze like that, then, their scuffle coming to an end, since Keith wasn’t exactly eager to use the toss he knew to escape this position and send Lance crashing face first into the floor.  He didn’t want to end the day in the emergency room, thank you very much.  Besides, Lance looked pretty damn proud of himself. 

 

Keith tossed his head and blew his hair out of his eyes, breathing heavy from the exertion.  “Okay,” he conceded.  “You win.  Now what.” 

 

Apparently seeing that the fight was over, Lance rearranged himself so that he was sitting directly on top of Keith’s hips, knee on either side of him, both hands still pressing Keith’s wrists down to the mattress.  Lance beamed down at him, glistening eyes and flushed cheeks, smile taking up half his damn face.  Keith couldn’t help but smile back at him. 

 

“You still got that rope I left here?” Lance asked him, and okay, that wasn’t exactly where he’d thought this was going, but he wasn’t going to complain either. 

 

Keith ran his tongue over his dried lips and nodded.  “Sock drawer,” he said.

 

Lance’s face grew impossibly brighter.  “What’s your color?” he asked.  Keith didn’t even need to think about it. 

 

“Green.” 

 

“Good,” Lance replied, and because he was full of surprises today, he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Lance’s lips before letting go of his wrists and darting away.  “Stay put,” he said, digging around in the sock drawer.

 

And, well… Keith had never been one to follow orders. 

 

It took Lance another few minutes of struggling to get Keith pinned down properly again, this time with one of Keith’s legs trapped between them from his attempted escape, knee hooked over Lance’s shoulder, thigh pressed tight to his chest.

 

Both of them were panting again.  “How the hell are you that flexible?” Lance breathed out.  Keith gave an innocent shrug, or as best of one as he could, with his arms pinned firmly to the mattress. 

 

“So you got me,” he said, squirming a bit to test if there was any way to get free at this point.  There wasn’t.  At least, not without kicking Lance in the face.  “What now?” 

 

Lance’s smirk was blinding.  “I’m going to tie you down and make you hold still for a while,” he said.  Fucking parrot.  Keith raised an eyebrow at him. 

 

“That sounds familiar,” he noted blandly.  Lance hummed a bit, unconcerned. 

 

“I picked it up somewhere.  Now, hold the fuck still.” 

 

Keith wasn’t entirely impossible.  He cooperated enough for Lance to get both of his wrists together and start winding the rope around them.  He’d been a little bit worried about having to coach Lance through this, not wanting to spend the day with numb hands but not sure he’d be able to use his words effectively enough.  Thankfully, it seemed like Lance knew exactly what he was doing, focusing on the rope with a concentrated expression and his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth. 

 

Keith was a little bit distracted watching his face alone. 

 

Lance’s fingers made quick work of securing his wrists together and attaching them firmly to the headboard.  He sat back, arms crossed over his chest and smug expression on his face.  Keith wriggled around, pulling a bit at his arms and rolling his shoulders, seeing just how stuck Lance had him. 

 

Pretty damn stuck, was the consensus.  

 

“Well, shit,” he said, giving up and going still with a final huff of breath. 

 

“You good?” Lance asked.  Keith nodded.  

 

“Sure.” 

 

“Good, cause I want to tie your legs down.” 

 

Well Keith wasn’t going to say  _ no _ this far into it.  He squirmed again, nodding with his head at his dresser. “Back of the sock drawer,” he said.  “I have two five foot bundles.  Picked them up at the hardware store.” 

 

Lance’s face was overjoyed.  He laughed as he reached for them.  “That’s kinky, Kogane.” 

 

Keith couldn’t help but laugh back.  “Um, yeah.” 

 

Moving around was a lot harder with his ankles tied to the bed posts, but he supposed that was the whole point.  At least he had something nice to look at while Lance did it.  He’d turned around with his back to Keith, putting his ass dead and center in Keith’s sight.  Keith didn’t mind  _ at all _ . 

 

“Are those my basketball shorts?” he asked.  Lance shrugged quickly, not caring at all about his apparent thievery. 

 

“They fit me better anyways,” he replied, and Keith actually moved to smack him before finding his arms stuck down.  He frowned, tilted his head back to look at the ropes, and pulled on his arms again.  Wow.  Nice. 

 

“Still okay?” Lance asked, turning back around and settling down on Keith’s stomach.  The room was hot with the both of them so close together, especially after the fight that had gotten them there.  The air conditioning wasn’t running in the winter months, but the Vegas heat was still creeping in.  Lance must have been feeling it too.  He pulled the bottom of his t-shirt up to mop at his face, giving Keith a full view of his chest and stomach underneath.  

 

He didn’t mean to suck in a breath, but apparently he did, and apparently it was audible.  Lance peeked out behind the fabric to smirk at him.  Keith had the overwhelming urge to hide his face in his hands, but then again, that wasn’t exactly an option.  Instead he steeled his resolve, stared Lance down, and smirked back. 

 

“Now what?” he asked.

 

Lance clucked his tongue.  “Greedy.  All I said was that I was tying you up.” 

 

“And making me hold still, yeah, but I was already doing that,” Keith pointed out.  He didn’t know what he was getting at.  He didn’t have a plan.  Then again, he was the one tied up.  He didn’t  _ need _ to. 

 

Lance thought about it a second, tilting his head to the side as he did so and looking like a puppy.  “Okay,” he finally said.  “What if I also do this?” 

 

He leaned in again, forearms braced on either side of Keith’s head.  He hesitated there a moment, the two of them nose to nose, mere inches apart.  Keith could smell his breath, chocolate and coffee, half drunk and abandoned on the desk across the room.  Keith swallowed hard, and Lance took that as his signal to move or something, because suddenly there were lips against his own and his eyes were falling closed. 

 

He sighed into the kiss, but it was over almost as soon as it started.  Lance pulled back, and Keith blinked his eyes open, found Lance hovering again just inches away. 

 

“I could also do that,” he repeated what had been a question earlier, voice now a whisper.  It felt ridiculously intimate.  Keith couldn’t quite catch his breath. 

 

“ _ Just _ that?” he asked.  

 

Lance licked his lip, and Keith watched his tongue move.  “We could…” he trailed off, licked his lips again.  “We could do more.” 

 

Keith had absolutely no idea what he was doing here.  He nodded just barely.  “We could.” 

 

“Should we?”

 

Keith may not have known what he was doing, but he knew how to get what he wanted.  “Shut up and kiss me already,” he said, earning him a laugh and another peck on the lips. 

 

“Who’s giving the orders here?” Lance asked, but he surged forward and kissed him after that, and Keith couldn’t properly talk anymore. 

 

He kissed back hard, participating as much as he could with most of him being incapacitated.  In all actuality, it was kind of a relief to be tied up for this.  He’d kissed very few people in his life, and every time he’d been ridiculously nervous about what he was supposed to do with his hands.  With both of them stuck together and bound to the bed, he couldn’t do  _ anything _ with them.  It’d be hard to do something wrong if he couldn’t do anything at all.

 

That didn’t mean he couldn’t kiss though.  He moved his mouth against Lance’s almost hungrily, matching Lance’s movements in a way he didn’t know he knew how to do.  Their noses bumped together, and Lance laughed, tilted his head to the side and bumped his nose against Keith’s cheek before kissing him again. 

 

It wasn’t a hard press, but the bruise there was awful sensitive.  It felt  _ amazing _ .  Keith kissed Lance back as hard as he was able, both of them laughing, teeth clacking, until Lance’s hand threaded through Keith’s hair and pulled him back just a little. 

 

“Easy there, tiger,” he teased, voice still a whisper. Keith laughed. 

 

“Shut the hell up.” 

 

Lance smirked back.  “Make me.” 

 

And then Keith was kissing him again.  This time when Lance’s tongue ghosted over his bottom lip, Keith let his lips fall apart.  It turned out that while having his own tongue in his mouth was nothing special, having someone else’s tongue in his mouth had his head spinning.  It was soft in a way Keith wasn’t expecting, and definitely not as gross as he’d anticipated.  

 

Then Lance pulled back, and as Keith was pushing back into him to keep the kiss going, Lance’s teeth caught onto his bottom lip and tugged.  Keith didn’t know that was a thing you were allowed to do.  He never wanted to do anything else. 

 

Lance was laughing at him again, but he didn’t care.  They kept that up, the kissing and the biting and the  _ tongues _ (oh God, the tongues) long enough that Keith lost track of time.  Keith found his fingers curling and clutching onto each other, hands craving to just  _ touch _ .  Lance’s own fingers got a better grip on Keith’s hair and tugged, pulling a sharp breath out of Keith involuntarily. 

 

Then Lance nipped at his lip again and rolled his hips down against Keith’s, and the sound that came out of Keith’s mouth was down right embarrassing. 

 

Lance didn’t laugh at him, though.  Not this time. Instead he pulled back from the kiss and sucked a spot on Keith’s neck, sending Keith once again reeling and seeing stars dancing around him.  He choked back another noise that threatened to come out.  He hadn’t known what to expect next, just knowing that he wanted  _ more _ of whatever it was.  He definitely wasn’t expecting Lance to pull back entirely and crawl down the bed, kneeling between Keith’s legs and settling his hands on Keith’s thighs.

 

It took Keith a second to pick up, pretty preoccupied by everything they’d been doing and by the fact that the warm thing laying on top of him was now  _ not _ laying on top of him.  But then Lance slid his hands up Keith’s thighs and thumbed open the top button of his jeans, and Keith’s blood went cold. 

 

“Wait!” he blurted out.  “Red, no, Lance-”

 

Lance jumped off the bed like it was on fire, hands up as if he was being arrested, and stared at Keith with wide eyes.  Keith wanted to reassure him, he really did, but he was still kind of in the middle of panicking.  His breathing was coming too fast, and his heart was beating too hard, but not in a good way.  Not the way they had been five minutes ago.  Suddenly being tied down felt incredibly less amazing, and he was all too aware of how turned on he was, and how  _ obvious _ that was, spread eagle on the bed. 

 

He felt a little bit less than mortified. 

 

Lance caught on fast, or he was just winging it and did something right.  Either way, he was immediately leaning over the bed, nimble fingers tugging the ropes free and freeing Keith’s hands. 

 

“Okay,” he said quietly.  Keith yanked his arms free the second the ropes were loose enough, and Lance instantly set to work on his legs.  “Okay, one second, I’m so sorry, you’re okay-” 

 

Lance was babbling, apparently losing his shit a little.  That should have made Keith feel better, because at least he wasn’t the only one panicking.  It just made him feel worse, though.  Wow, good job, Kogane.  You ruined it,  _ and _ you freaked Lance out. 

 

It took mere seconds for Lance to get his ankles untied, and as soon as Keith was free he was rolling onto his stomach and burying his face in his arms.  Lance idled by the bed, nervous energy pouring off of him.  It was nearly tangible. 

 

“Um,” he said, nervous fingers tapping on his thigh.  “Um, shit, okay, do you need some water?  Are you okay?  What do you need me to do? I didn’t mean-” 

 

If Keith didn’t put a stop to him, he’d end up hyperventilating and passing out, or just muttering to himself in incomprehensible Spanglish.  It made Keith wish he’d taken Spanish in high school, but since he hadn’t, he’d better cut this off before it got worse. 

 

“Stop,” he said, loud enough to be heard, and wow.  He really had a way with words.  God damn it. 

 

Lance stopped though.  He froze, and his mouth was hanging open when Keith peeked out at him.  Keith groaned and buried his face back in the bed.  “I’m  _ sorry _ ,” he said into the mattress.  “Just… just give me a minute.  Calm down.  Breathe.” 

 

“I didn’t mean to-” Lance started.  

 

Keith interrupted before he could get going again.  “You didn’t do anything,” he said, face heating up worse.  He sighed.  “Not your fault.  I’m sorry.” 

 

“Don’t apologize for safewording,” Lance scolded, actually managing to sound stern.  It was hilarious, so absolutely bizarre in the situation, that Keith found himself giggling. 

 

Hard. 

 

Lance really didn’t deserve to put up with all of his bullshit.  He bounced around a bit more, nervous on his feet and unable to hold still.  Then he spoke up again. 

 

“Can I sit by you?  Is that okay?” Keith wasn’t sure, but he nodded anyways, and Lance was instantly back on the bed, squeezing into the Lance-sized space that was left with Keith pressed against the wall.  

 

Keith figured he owed him an explanation, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what that explanation  _ was _ .  He got scared.  He’d never done this before.  Nobody else had ever touched his dick and he panicked? 

 

Lance was going to laugh in his face. 

 

Better to just get it over with then. 

 

“I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he said, not finding the bravery to pick his head up as he said it.  “I just… I’ve never done that sort of thing before.” 

 

He was expecting a reaction, specifically an unfavorable one.  He wasn’t expecting absolute silence.  He waited, counted to ten, and then picked his head up to peek out at Lance again.  Lance was staring at him, expression absolutely puzzled. 

 

“What?” he eventually asked, as if he’d spent the entire silence thinking of that single word.  

 

Keith gulped. “I, uh… I’ve never-” 

 

“No I heard what you said,” Lance interrupted.  Keith nodded. 

 

“Okay… so… yeah.” 

 

“No what so yeah,” Lance blurted out, not even proper English at this point.  Keith blinked, pushed himself up on his elbows and sat back.  Lance was sitting at the head of the bed, so Keith curled up near the foot of it, drawing his legs up like a protective shield.  “What do you mean you’ve  _ never done that sort of thing before _ ?” 

 

Keith blinked a few times more, not having any idea how he was supposed to answer that question.  As soon as he tried, he got cut off again.  “I-”

 

“Dude, I watched you get  _ spanked _ onstage!” 

 

Keith wasn’t normally one to get embarrassed about that sort of thing, but today was apparently not his day.  He felt like his face, his ears, and the back of his neck were about to catch fire. “Um, well,  _ yeah _ ,” he managed.  “That’s  _ different _ .” 

 

“You have kinky sex all the time!” Lance argued, obviously stuck on one track now.  Keith frowned. 

 

“No I don’t?” he half demanded, half asked.  “I’m a virgin!” 

 

Lance wasn’t any more enlightened by this explanation.  “How are you a virgin?  You said you and Shiro do shit  _ all the time _ .” 

 

Keith was just about ready to bang his head against the wall.  He was embarrassed, frustrated, and terribly turned on.  He could still feel the pressure of the ropes around his wrists and his lips were tingling and a little numb from how long they’d been making out.  His brain was fuzzy, but also throbbing with a headache from the amount of time he’d spent with his head in a book today.  There was a lot going on, and he didn’t know how to have this conversation. 

 

“Shiro’s straight!” Keith ended up yelling.  “It’s entirely platonic.” 

 

Lance crossed his arms and raised an unamused eyebrow.  “Entirely?” he asked.  Keith’s cheeks heated up even more, somehow. 

 

“Well, n-no, I mean… not entirely, but it’s like-” 

 

“What?” Lance demanded.  Great.  Now they were fighting.  

 

Keith scowled and balled his hands into fists.  “It’s not sex, okay?  It’s not about that.  I, I mean.  It’s hot, yeah, afterwards, but not… and I mean…  I’ve never had anyone touch my dick.”  He finished out of breath, brain scrambling to catch up with what his mouth had just said. He swallowed hard and looked away.  “And you’re the first person I made out with. At the party, on Halloween?  Yeah, that was the first time.”

 

Once again there was silence, and once again Keith wasn’t sure what to expect.  It broke, though, a second later, when Lance busted out laughing.

 

Yep, that was the extra dose of humiliation that Keith had been expecting.  He picked up his pillow and whipped it at Lance’s head, yelling, “Shut up!  Whatever.  It’s not that funny.” 

 

Not his best comeback, but he wasn’t exactly thinking straight.  Lance at least looked a little apologetic as he choked back laughs and rubbed the eye that took the brunt of the pillow’s force.  “Ow, okay, I’m sorry,” he said, then immediately started laughing again.  Keith scowled and looked for something else to throw. 

 

“I just- you’re- you belong to a BDSM club, dude,” Lance managed to gasp out between bursts of hysterical laughter. 

 

“I  _ know.   _ It’s weird,” Keith snapped.  “You don’t have to rub it in, okay?” 

 

Lance shook his head back and forth almost frantically.  “No, no, no, you don’t get it.  This whole time.  This whole time I was like ‘wow this kid is so much more experienced than me he’s going to think I’m a fucking virgin he’s done so much shit,’ and  _ you  _ have less experience than  _ me! _ ”  He dissolved once again into laughter, and Keith had just about enough at that point.  He carefully crawled off the bed and picked his textbook off the floor, the same damn thing that started this mess in the first place. 

 

He needed a nap, or a handful of excedrin, or both.  He needed to get back to studying.  Maybe if he did enough of it he’d forget how absolutely mortified he was.  He stepped away from the bed to go hide in the bathroom until Lance got bored and went away, but Lance’s hand caught him around the wrist and pulled him back.  

 

He stumbled and landed on the bed, sitting down hard against his will.

 

“I’m sorry,” Lance said.  “I am.  I’m not laughing at you.  I’m just so relieved.” 

 

Well… there was that at least.  Keith cast a narrow eyed look at Lance over his shoulder and hummed.  “Yeah?” 

 

“Yeah.  I’m not trying to make fun of you.” 

 

Keith hummed again at that, glowering at the wall next to Lance’s head.  “You’re doing a pretty shit job, then.” 

 

That got another laugh out of Lance, and then Keith found his arms wrapping around his middle and hauling him back farther onto the bed.  “Get over here, loser.  Let me hug you.” 

 

Keith didn’t fight him on it, but he didn’t drop the scowl. “You say the sweetest things to me.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah, you love it, honey bunches.”  Lance smacked an unnecessarily wet kiss to his cheek at that, and Ketih groaned loudly and wiped the spit off of him.  Lance laughed, bright as the sun, and Keith felt a little bit less like he was drowning. 

 

“You’ve seriously never had sex before?” Lance asked.  Keith sighed and sagged back against him.  Lance’s grip on him was tight, and if you couldn’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.  

 

“Yeah,” he sighed out.  “And I’d rather not have the first time be during a kink thing.  I just- I don’t know.”

 

“It’s okay,” Lance reassured immediately, arms tightening around him.  “It’s cool.  I’m sorry for pushing.” 

 

“You weren’t pushing,” Keith said, because he wasn’t.  This was all some sort of clumsy misunderstanding. 

 

Speaking of which, “I’m sorry for scaring you, then.”

 

Keith scowled anew.  “I wasn’t scared,” he snapped.  Once again, Lance laughed. 

 

“Sure you weren’t, mullet.” 

 

“Fight me.” 

 

“Because that ended so well for you the last time.” 

 

“Oh shut up.” 

 

“Make me.”  Lance sounded far too proud of himself, far too cocky, for Keith to let that slide.  He turned to face Lance, pushed him back against the wall he was leaning again, and kissed the daylights out of him.  

 

And that was basically the end of that. 

  
  
  


…

  
  


“Nice hickey,” Hunk said, sucking at his smoothie and looking at the pair of them like they were the best soap opera he’d found on TV.  Lance needed new friends, he really did. 

 

“We take time out of  _ our _ day, out of our  _ studying _ , to come get smoothies with you and  _ this _ is the thanks we get,” Lance exclaimed, as much dramatics as he could manage.  “Thanks a lot.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah, cry me a river.  When you start staying the night in strange places, I have the right to tease you about it,” Hunk replied, and well, okay.  Maybe that was fair. 

 

“He wasn’t in strange places,” Keith said, picking his head up from where he’d been heavily focused on stabbing a boba bead with his straw.  He’d quickly picked up interest in that after the hickey comment, and his cheeks were practically fire truck red.  They matched the hoodie he was wearing.  It was endearing.  “He was in my room,” he finished, innocent as can be, God bless him.  

 

Lance dropped his forehead onto the table as Hunk burst out laughing. 

 

“What did I miss?” Pidge asked, appearing at their table and elbowing a space into the booth next to Hunk.  “I found my clone in the library.  Cool if he joins?” 

 

Lance’s day immediately got better.  “Of course!” he told Pidge, then stood up as much as the booth would allow to wave.  “Yo!  Matthew!” 

 

Matt turned around to wave back, and the person standing immediately next to him turned too.  Lance swallowed his tongue. 

 

“Oh my God….” 

 

“Oh yeah, he had a buddy with him,” Pidge added.  “Another grad student?  I don’t know.  He’s cool though.  In the psych department.” 

 

Keith’s head snapped up at that, and the look on his face had to be a perfect mirror of Lance’s own.  Matt and Shiro made their way over to the booth, drinks in hand.  Lance was still trying to remember how to breathe, and Shiro looked pretty startled too, if the look on his face was any indication.  

 

Keith, the absolute idiot, burst out laughing and ruined any chances they had of being inconspicuous. 

 

Pidge was instantly, furiously curious.  “What?” she demanded.  “What did I miss?” 

 

Keith managed to gasp out the words, “Small world.”  He wiped his eyes with his fist and hid a snicker behind the straw of his drink.  “Hi Shiro.” 

 

Shiro didn’t look any less startled.  Matt was wearing a curious expression that matched his sister’s to a T, and he kept it up as he shoved his way into the booth next to Pidge.  

 

“Hey,” Shiro answered, finally cracking into a smile and sliding into the booth next to Lance.  Lance slid over to make room, bumping into Keith as he did so.  His hand automatically settled on Keith’s thigh under the table, just above his knee.  Keith choked on his smoothie.  

 

“Nice hickey,” Shiro said, because apparently the day old red splotch on Keith’s neck was the best topic of conversation ever.  Lance officially gave up on the day and dropped his head back on the table. He heard the sounds of someone high fiving over his head. 

 

“I like this guy,” Hunk said.  “You’re cool.”

Next Pidge spoke, and she sounded far too devious.  “So, how do you know each other?” she asked.  Lance hit his head against the table for emphasis, hoping to knock himself out.  

 

Shiro answered, and it would have almost sound believable if Lance didn’t know any better.  “Mentoring program,” he said.  “Keith and I go way back.” 

 

“Yep,” Keith agreed, laughter choked out but voice light.  “Been dealing with this pain in the ass for a long time.” 

 

Everyone chuckled, the way you do at that kind of friendly banter.  The worst part about it was that Keith had just made the worst pun ever, and Lance couldn’t even point it out.  He wanted to kill himself. 

 

“You dead, my dude?” Matt asked, prodding at Lance’s ear with a straw.  

 

Lance swatted the straw away and laughed, once.  “I wish.”  Keith’s hand settled over Lance’s own on his thigh.  It squeezed, gently, and Lance very quickly changed his mind.


	18. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " He found Pidge hanging around outside his math classroom. At first he wasn’t sure it was her. He’d just thought, ‘wow, look at that weirdo sleeping on the floor.’ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is looooong overdue, BUT! EXCITING NEWS! kathycats made me a playlist???? No joke, my friend. I saw this comment on my way home from work, and I drove around the roads for an extra half an hour to listen to it. 
> 
> This is possibly the greatest thing someone has ever done for me online? Appreciate you, man. Everyone should go check it out-
> 
> https://8tracks.com/silver_love/hands-on-space-boy

“Here’s what we’ll do,” Lance said, when he was starting to get dangerously close to losing the will to live.  It was Saturday night, and the hourly countdown till their first final had officially began.  Keith had one at nine a.m. on Monday- T-minus thirty-seven hours.  Lance’s first wasn’t until one p.m., but the extra four hours weren’t feeling very generous just then. 

 

Eight p.m., he decided, was a horrible hour to be alive.  Keith seemed to agree. 

 

He was blurring a bit around the edges, a mix of caffeine and jitters.  God only knows how much coffee he’d had that day.  Lance had left him in the library that morning to catch his shift at work, and when he’d gotten back at four in the afternoon the only evidence that Keith had moved at all was the growing junkyard of papers around him.

 

Keith glanced up at him, worrying his lip between his teeth and tapping his fingers against the table.  “What’ll we do?” he asked.  At least he wasn’t pissy.  An anxious Keith was generally a moody one, but apparently study week had worn that out of him.  Lance had no complaints. 

 

“We take a break,” Lance started, holding up a hand when Keith looked like he was about to start arguing.  He started over.  “We take a break.  A short break.  Then we come back and stay till the library closes.  We kick ass tomorrow, give up at midnight.  There’s a Christmas party next Tuesday.  If we pass our finals, we go to the party.” 

 

Keith stared at him for a moment, thinking this over.  Eventually he asked, “Is this Allura’s Christmas party?” 

 

Lance tilted his head to the side and tried to remember what the invite page had looked like.  “I think it’s Thace’s?  Thought you said Allura didn’t host parties in her apartment.” 

 

Keith waved his hand at that, dismissing it.  “Cohosting.  Yeah, that’s the one.”

 

“Deal?” Lance held his hand out to shake and raised an eyebrow.  Keith thought for another moment and frowned.  

 

“I thought you flew home this Friday?”

 

Oh.  Right.  Lance hadn’t told him about that yet. 

 

He rolled his neck and schooled his expression and tried to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal.  It wasn’t, really.  It was an average sized deal, but at the same time, at the beginning of the semester Lance wouldn’t have expected himself to be spending extra time on campus for a boy. 

 

He said, “I moved the flight up a week,” and immediately held his breath.  Because this wasn’t just  _ any _ boy, this was  _ Keith _ , who was amazing and sweet and ridiculously adorable, but who could also get kind of funny when he thought people were being too nice to him.  

 

He didn’t think Keith would be mad about it, but he also just  _ really _ didn’t want Keith to get mad about it.  Who knew at the beginning of the semester that he would care this much?  

 

Keith’s response was a little underwhelming.  He sat back, tilted his head to the side, and asked, “You are?” Lance nodded. 

 

“The house is going to be crowded, you know?  And flights are cheaper in the middle of the week.”  That much was true at least.  He didn’t  _ entirely _ make this choice for Keith.  He needed to save money, and with family coming into town, his house was going to be an absolute zoo.  Staying on campus would allow him to get some actual rest before going home to spend time with his family. 

 

Keith didn’t have a family to go home to, and the more Lance thought about the holidays, the more he thought about Keith’s confession.  About young Keith being passed around like someone’s hand-me-downs, about current Keith spending four weeks of Christmas break alone in his dorm room on an empty campus.  It damn near broke his heart. 

 

And, well, his parents had taught him to take care of people.  It wasn’t right to just leave him here. 

 

“So you fly out…?” 

 

“Wednesday.” 

 

“Hunk and Pidge are going home early.  Aren’t you going to be lonely?” 

 

Lance ignored the fluttery feeling in his chest that followed Keith’s far too earnest expression, and he leaned forward and bumped his forehead against Keith’s shoulder.  He was tired.  More coherent forms of affection would have to wait. 

 

“Nah,” he answered.  “I’ll have you.” 

 

A comfortable silence stretched on after that, and Lance felt his eyelids grow heavy.  Keith was still a little shaky, though, still overflowing with nerves, so Lance picked his head up and pushed himself away from the table. 

 

“So,” he said.  “Let’s get out of here.  What should we do for a break?” 

  
  


…

  
  


“What the hell are we doing?” 

 

Keith dug a kick shield out of the closet and turned to see Lance bouncing on his toes on the foam mat covering the floor.  He grinned, shook his head, and tossed the pad at Lance, who caught it with minimal fumbling. 

 

“You said we could do anything I wanted,” he pointed out.  Lance looked over the shield he was holding with a curious eye. 

 

“Well yeah,” he agreed.  “But I thought this would be going another direction.”

 

When Keith didn’t respond, just crossed the room and adjusted Lance’s hold on the kick shield, Lance made a grumpy humming noise and continued.  “Another  _ sexy _ direction,” he added.  “I’d even let you hit me today.” 

 

There was nobody around to hear them in the empty grappling room, so Lance had none of his usual hesitations.  He simply smirked with all the confidence in the world and waggled his eyebrows in Keith’s direction.  Keith pushed the kick shield solidly against Lance’s hip. 

 

“I’m planning on hitting you,” he said, soaking up the surprised look on Lance’s face. “Hold tight.” 

 

He’d been expecting Lance to fumble.  It wasn’t like Keith could  _ hurt _ him while he was holding onto a giant piece of styrofoam- he didn’t want to hurt Lance anyways, at least, y’know, not with kicks- but he’d expected Lance to stumble or fall over or stir up a huge fuss or complain.  Instead he staggered with a soft grunt, got his feet back under him in a wider stance, and nodded.  “Okay, go again.” 

 

So Keith did.  He threw his arms, pivoted his foot, and let his shin connect solidly with the target in front of him.  This time Lance didn’t even budge.  His expression morphed into something challenging. 

 

“That all you got?” 

 

“You don’t want me to kick you hard,” Keith responded, rolling the band on his gym shorts so they wouldn’t stick around his knees.  Lance blew out a quick breath and rolled his eyes. 

 

“Try me, pretty boy.” 

 

It was inevitable, really, that Keith would end up knocking Lance over.  It wasn’t immediate, though.  No, Lance was pretty sturdy for someone who looked like they’d blow over in a windstorm.  But that was a surprise, and the more concentration Keith put into his kicks, the more entertained Lance seemed to be, until he was laughing hard enough to be off balance.  

 

Keith kicked the thing, not holding anything back, and Lance got knocked over sideways.  As he fell he reached out, grabbed Keith’s arm, and pulled him down with him.  The two of them ended up tangled up on the grappling room floor, laughing and sweaty and just starting to pant.  There was nobody around to see them though- not at ten p.m. before finals week- so Keith made no immediate move to get up. 

 

That was until Lance said, “Alright, Karate Kid.  Now you teach me.” 

 

Keith hauled Lance up off the ground and made him spend five minutes just holding his hand and kicking at his hip.  It was step one for learning how to throw this kind of kick, learning how to turn your shoulders and hips and bring your leg up sideways.  It also had Lance giggling and making jokes about “violent slow dancing.” 

 

“Like slow dancing, with  _ knives _ ,” Lance exclaimed.  What they were doing had nothing to do with knives, but Lance didn’t seem to care, and it was all downhill from there.

 

“Tango-kwon-do,” he said, far too proud of himself.  

 

“Karate party.”  

 

That one wasn’t even good.  Keith rolled his eyes.  “Lame.” 

“Kung funky.” 

 

“Please stop talking.” 

 

“Make me, mullet.” 

 

They were making out against the mirrored wall when Lance’s phone alarm went off, signalling the end of their break and reminding them to return to the library.  Keith reluctantly pulled away and had Lance put the kick sheild back while he wiped down the mirrors real quick.  It would just be rude to leave hand prints behind. 

 

“This means I can beat Hunk up now, right?” Lance asked playfully, literally bouncing on his toes still as they made their way out of the gym and waved goodnight to the exhausted kid stationed at the counter. 

 

Keith grinned a bit and shook his head.  “Maybe a few more classes.”

  
  
  


…

  
  


Keith was right about Lance not being ready to take on Hunk, which of course was something Lance realistically knew already.  Hunk was a beast, but also his best bro in the entire world.  Not only could Lance  _ not _ kick his ass even with years of formal training, he wouldn’t want to anyways. 

 

But sometimes temptation was too great, and that’s how Lance found himself trapped in a never ending headlock while Hunk sat peacefully at his computer and scrolled through his engineering notes one-handed. 

 

It also turned out Hunk could pinch harder than Lance could bite, and between that and the callouses Hunk had acquired from years of mechanics work with his dad, Lance didn’t have much of a chance of struggling free. 

 

He stood there, stooped over uncomfortably, with Hunks arm around his neck and hand clamped over his mouth, and imagined situations of revenge. 

 

“Do I  _ want _ to know what’s going on here?” Pidge’s voice asked, and Lance would have spun around to look at her if he’d been able to move.  He hadn’t even heard her come in.  Instead, he did his best to yell ‘ _ Pidge!  Save me! _ ’ through the suffocating mask of Hunk’s hand. 

 

“Jackass here tried to put me in a headlock,” Hunk explained.  Lance let out a complaining noise at the nickname and tried to kick Hunk in the leg.  Hunk was entirely unaffected.   “He’s in time out.” 

 

So maybe jumping on Hunk’s back and attempting to put him in a stranglehold while he was digging through his backpack and distracted by headphones hadn’t been the greatest idea.  Maybe startling an unsuspecting Hunk wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done.  

 

Maybe he was going to be permanently crippled by backaches if he stayed stooped over too much longer. 

 

“Choking, huh?” Pidge asked, making herself comfortable on Hunk’s bed.  “That’s kinky.  They’re pulling you into the fold, huh?” 

 

Apparently those were the magic words.  Hunk let go of Lance like he was on fire, and Lance fell over sideways and crumpled to the floor.  “Ow,” he groaned.  “Jesus, Hunk.” 

 

“You asked for it,” Hunk replied, eyes still glued to his computer screen.  Lance kicked his chair. 

 

“You’re hard,” Pidge said, and Lance decided he’d rather be strangled, thank you. 

 

“Don’t start with me, Pidgeon.  I’ve looked at your fanfiction bookmarks.  You’re not going to win this one.”  He pointed a finger at her menacingly, and Pidge stared back with narrowed eyes as if she was considering her options.  

 

Eventually she said, “Touche,” and left it at that. 

 

Lance was kind of relieved.  The worst he’d found in Pidge’s bookmarks was ‘daddy kink.’  He had to do a more thorough search, apparently, because if that kind of threat had Pidge going quiet, there had to be something good there.  

 

She had far too much blackmail material on him.  It was only fair to even the playing field. 

 

“Two more finals,” he said, changing the conversation and plotting his revenge.  “You guys ready?” 

 

“Sure,” Hunk said, sounding less than convinced. 

 

Pidge didn’t tear her gaze away from the ceiling as she answered.  “Ready to die.” 

  
  
  


…

  
  


Keith’s math final didn’t go nearly as bad as he’d expected it to.  At least, he didn’t think so.  It was hard to tell with math.  It was easy to feel confident while still getting everything wrong.  He just crossed his fingers and prayed that this time it wasn’t the case.  There was too much on the line this time around. 

 

Man, if only he’d had this kind of work ethic in high school.  Maybe he could have gotten a better scholarship, something with more relaxed guidelines.  Maybe he’d have a few tricks from math class left over. 

 

Ah, well.  So long as Keith passed college algebra, he didn’t have to worry about math again for the rest of his undergrad.  Sweet, sweet freedom.  Keith really was hoping for the best here.  He’d given up on religion a long time ago, but he was willing to throw all his lots in with karma.  He deserved to pass math, right?

 

He found Pidge hanging around outside his math classroom.  At first he wasn’t sure it was her.  He’d just thought, ‘wow, look at that weirdo sleeping on the floor.’ But no, that was Pidge all right, curled up against the wall and tucked into Lance’s oversized hoodie, using her own backpack as a pillow and absolutely dead to the world. 

 

Keith went over, knelt down next to her, and shook her awake.  He caught the startled punch she threw his way and chuckled lightly. 

 

“Good morning.” 

 

Pidge pulled her hand away and rubbed at her eye. “Fuck.” 

 

Keith pushed himself to his feet and hauled her up as well, grabbing her backpack before she got the chance to and throwing it over his own shoulder.  All he’d taken to his final was a pencil and a scantron.  He needed something to do with his hands. 

 

“I need a double shot of espresso and a will to live,” Pidge grumbled.

 

Keith nodded and started the way out of the classroom building, intending to walk to the library and get the both of them well deserved coffee.  Or at least, Keith thought he deserved it.  Karma and all that.  

 

“You took your final before falling asleep, right?” he asked.  Pidge nodded and yawned into the sleeve of Lance’s jacket.  

 

“Was just gonna rest my eyes a minute,” she said through a yawn.  “I finished early.” 

 

“Did you even sleep last night?” 

 

Pidge squinted at him and jabbed a pointy finger into his shoulder. “I don’t want to hear it, Kogane.  Not from you.” 

 

That was fair.  If Lance hadn’t dragged him to bed, he probably would have stayed up all night too.  He really wasn’t minding this whole frequent bedsharing thing.  The early bedtimes?  Not his favorite. But the bedsharing was worth the sacrifice. 

 

“What’s with that dopey ass grin on your face?” Pidge asked, pulling Keith’s head back into reality by bumping her shoulder into his arm.  She blinked her eyes open, properly waking up.  “Hey, why do you have my bag?” 

 

Keith waved off her question and said, “So tell me about your math test.”  By the time they reached the coffee shop five minutes later, Keith was up to his eyes in Pidge’s mile-a-minute math gibberish and pretty damn sorry he asked. 

 

More karma, he supposed. 

 

He really needed to get his hands on some coffee.

  
  
  


….

 

**Lance :) : Well???????**

 

**I haven’t checked yet :Karate Keef**

 

**Lance :) : DUDE**

**Lance :) : CHECK IT**

**Lance :) :  GIVE ME UR LOG IN ILL CHECK**

 

**Shut up omg :Karate Keef**

 

**Lance :) : CHECK IT**

 

**…  :Karate Keef**

 

**Lance :) : WELL???**

 

**I passed :Karate Keef**

 

**Lance :) : YOU PASSED????**

 

**Almost all A’s.  You? :Karate Keef**

 

**Lance :) : SAME**

**Lance :) : OMG**

**Lance :) : YOU PASSED**

 

**Good job.  You deserve it :Karate Keef**

 

**Lance :) : SO DO YOU**

**Lance :) : afjfdafdaf**

 

**Are you ok? :Karate Keef**

 

**Lance :) :** **_(: (: (:_ **

 

**Lance? :Karate Keef**

 

**Lance :) :** **_(: (: (: (: (: (:_ **

**Taking that as a yes :Karate Keef**

 

**Lance :) : So what are you wearing to the party?**

 

**Omg :Karate Keef**

 

**Lance :) : OMG xD**

  
  
  
  


**…**

  
  


Lance really ought to stop making assumptions about these sorts of things.  This party, much like the last, was hosted in a well lit house.  Unlike the last it was bustling with people, filled to the brim with people squeezing onto couches and floor space and kitchen counters.  The air smelled like cinnamon and hot chocolate, which had Lance  _ aching _ for home.  There was a pseudo fireplace roaring in the corner, and someone had set up a nintendo 64 in the corner of the living room.  

 

Lance and Keith had claimed cushions on the floor and solo cups of eggnog (nonalcoholic, curse the world).  It was warm enough to have the door to the backyard open, but chilly enough that Lance had an excuse to press himself to Keith’s side and stay there.

 

Pidge had dropped them off a little less than an hour ago (some kind of favor exchange between her and Lance. She’d borrowed her parents’ minivan for the night), and they’d spent the entire time so far lazing around on the floor chewing on Christmas cookies and barely keeping up with the conversation.  

 

Lance didn’t mind everyone talking over their heads.  He was too busy trying not to choke on his breath from the feeling of Keith idly rubbing his thumb over the back of Lance’s hand.

 

Soft Christmas music was playing in the background, the good version of Baby It’s Cold Outside. Allura and Shiro were taking full advantage of it, leading each other around in circles and singing the lyrics under their breath. 

 

“I oughta say no, no, no sir,” Shiro murmured, drawing Allura closer with a hand on the small of her back. 

 

“Mind if I move in closer,” Allura sang back, snaking a hand to the nape of his neck and using it to press their foreheads together. 

 

“At least I’m gonna say that I tried.” 

 

“What’s the sense of hurting my pride?” 

 

They carried on like that through the whole song, entirely absorbed in each other as they spun gently around the brick patio.  Lance hummed along quietly and let himself get drawn in by how sweet they looked together, how absolutely adoring and wrapped up they were in each other.  It reminded Lance of the pictures in his mama’s old scrapbook, of his parents back when they were dating.  He’d never seen two people more in love, and that’s what he saw in Shiro and Allura. 

 

Who would have guessed they’d find each other here? 

 

He hoped they got it together one day, got married and stayed in love and lived it out like a Disney fairytale.  He hoped he got to do that too, eventually. 

 

He leaned his head into Keith’s shoulder, feeling sentimental and comfy and warm.  “Dance with me?” he asked.  Keith’s shoulder shook a little as he laughed. 

 

“In your dreams, lover boy.” 

 

“You won’t slow dance with me?” Lance asked, pasting on his best pitiful pout and puppy dog eyes.  Keith barely gave him a second glance, but he did press his lips to the crown of Lance’s head.  Lance could have melted into a puddle right there. 

 

“Maybe later,” he murmured.  “I’d rather not slow dance with everyone staring at us.” 

 

Lance saw the chance and took it, feeling brave as he rolled the frayed ends of his jeans between his fingers.  “This is gonna be a real problem at our wedding.”  Maybe that was a weird thing to say.  Hell, it definitely was.  Part of Lance was scared Keith was going to freak out and leave.  Part of Lance was wildly relieved when he laughed instead. 

 

“Oh is it, now?” 

 

Lance grinned and hummed an affirmative.  “Mhmmm.  We’re going to rock some Elvis.” 

 

“Can’t Help Falling In Love?” Keith asked, and Lance was only a little humiliated when his heart skipped a beat at Keith saying ‘love.’  Wow, he was a mess.  When the Christmas song came to an end, and the randomized playlist moved onto something much less romantic and far catchier, Lance let out a thankful sigh. 

 

“This is definitely our song,” he declared, shoving up to his feet and offering a hand down to Keith.  “Pitbull is my homeboy.” 

 

“I bet he is,” Keith drawled, letting himself be pulled up.

 

It helped that Shiro and Allura stayed and danced with them, and it helped even more when a few other people joined them all on the patio.  Lance kept Keith close and did his best to dance around him, pulling moves that had Keith laughing behind his hand.  Then Pitbull said,  _ “Grab somebody sexy _ -” and a set of hands latched onto his hips while Shiro’s hand hooked into the back of Keith’s collar and dragged him over.  Lance laughed, overjoyed and grinded back against Allura as ridiculously as he could manage.  

 

The group of them there, laughing and dancing in a stranger’s backyard, drunk on nothing but the winter air and the joy of being alive, was probably the happiest Lance had felt in a long time.  He almost got choked up thinking about it.  He hadn’t known any of these people four months ago.  He hadn’t known this would be an option.  He hadn’t expected to be  _ this happy _ .

 

He felt his eyes starting to tear up, but then Keith’s delighted laughter pulled him all of his thoughts.  He threw a wink at Allura and bounced away, pulling Keith in close to him.  And right there, under the flashing Christmas lights and the clear Nevada sky, Lance wrapped Keith up tight and kissed him.  Even in front of everyone, Keith didn’t pull away.  Just pressed in closer and kissed back. 

  
And _that_ , Lance decided, was the happiest he’d ever been.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " “He’s not my boyfriend yet.” Lance’s stomach flipped over just thinking about it. "

Alice Cooper’s “Poison” was playing as Keith walked on stage, and Lance really wanted to congratulate the sound guy for keeping their playlists entirely On Brand.  

 

Shiro was clothed entirely, shirt buttoned up to his throat and down to his wrists, tucked into his trowsers in a way that looked stylish instead of dorky.  He could have been heading into the office with the way he was dressed, but the dark greys and blacks of his clothes let him fit in here.  Lance couldn’t see any of his scars through this outfit.  It was almost easy to forget they were there. 

 

Keith was practically naked, a pair of boxer briefs clinging to his slim hips and hugging the curve of his ass.  He was half hard already, but hell, he’d said he had a slight kink for humiliation, and nothing embarrassed Keith worse than being up in front of people. 

 

Lance could see the discoloration on Keith’s shoulder.  He was pale enough that he held scars forever, dark pink and prominent against his complection.  He had a matching one on his leg, and the faintest hint of something on his cheek, remnants of the car accident last semester.  Between the clothes and the scars, the pale skin, the dark hair, the dangerous eyes- he and Shiro were a matching set.  It made sense to see them together. 

 

“Jealous?” Allura asked, leaning in over his shoulder.  Lance realized he’d been gripping his Coke can a bit too tight in his fist, leaving dents in the aluminum.  On stage Keith knelt expertly in the center, knees barely making a sound against the hardwood.  Shiro stepped up behind him and wrapped a collar around his throat.  Keith closed his eyes. The perfect picture of submission.  Lance wondered how Shiro had talked him into that. 

 

“What?” Lance asked.  “Me?  Jealous?  Nah.” 

 

Allura hummed quietly and drummed her fingernails against his shoulder.  Lance shivered.  He’d had an adventure with Keith’s nails over Christmas break, the day before flying home for Christmas.  He’d worn the marks home with him, and while they didn’t last more than a day or so, it was a good thing the winter months were too cold to walk around shirtless.  He didn’t need his family asking questions. 

 

They’d asked questions anyways, his mother especially, about “that nice young man you met at school,” and “when will you bring someone home to meet the family?” 

 

He’d never actually come out to his family, but his mama was three steps ahead of him as always.  His siblings, similarly, were unrelenting.  Lance didn’t know how to explain it to them, so he just told them the truth.  

 

_ ‘Oh come on, guys,’  _ he’d told them.   _ ‘We aren’t even dating. _ ’ 

 

“You look jealous,” Allura said, pulling out a chair next to him and sitting down while Shiro strapped Keith down the the spanking bench on stage- an old favorite.  They only had so many props to work with, so all of them were well loved and well used. 

 

“Why aren’t you jealous?” Lance asked.  “That’s  _ your _ boyfriend up there.” 

 

Allura narrowed her eyes at him, not like she was angry, but like she was suspicious.  “Shiro and I are complicated,” she said. 

 

“You shouldn’t have to be.” 

 

She shrugged and looked over her fingernails, which were trimmed pretty short and painted blood red.  She hummed, matching red lips pressing together as the sound slipped out, just barely audible over the music.  She said, “You know that boy’s crazy about you.” 

 

Maybe Allura was right.  Maybe Allura had no idea what she was talking about.  Lance was overrun by a sense of deja vu.  Watching Keith and Shiro onstage, listening to that song in the background, puzzling over things Allura was saying, and not being able to tear his eyes away from the gorgeous dark haired boy on stage.  This January Sunday might as well have taken him back in time.  He watched Keith, took a sip of his soda, and sighed.

 

They must have been using hand signals instead of traffic lights that night, because Keith was wearing a gag.  There was a black bandana secured between his teeth and knotted at the base of his skull, and that was the only thing separating the two events in his mind.  He was sure Shiro knew Keith well enough to read his body language.  Hell, they probably didn’t even need safewords anymore, not really.  The trust between those two was amazing.  Lance didn’t know if he could ever get Keith to trust him that much.  

 

Lance didn’t realize just how obviously he was staring until Keith made eye contact with him. 

 

Keith stared him down, and Lance stared back, too embarrassed to do anything else, too stubborn to look away.  Then something amazing happened.  

 

Keith winked.  He grinned around the gag and winked, the smug little shit.  Lance took a minute to get his breath back, then he lowered his soda from his lips and blew a kiss.  Keith’s eyes crinkled with a smile.  Lance melted a little bit. 

 

“Crazy about you,” Allura reiterated.  Lance rolled his eyes. 

 

“Yeah, yeah.  You said that already.” 

 

Allura’s eyebrow raise was fucking devastating.  Something fluttered in his chest at the sight of it.  “Someone’s sassy,” she said, and well, Lance had never really gotten over his pipe-dream crush on Allura from freshman year.  He probably wasn’t ever going to.  He had a thing for gorgeous women and dominating attitudes, what could he say?  He’d never imagined he’d ever have a chance to be  _ friends _ with her. 

 

Somewhere on stage, Keith cried out loud enough to be heard around his makeshift gag, and if Lance wasn’t already starting to squirm from the way Allura was looking at him, he was definitely on edge now. 

 

“Problem?” Allura asked him. 

 

Lance raised an eyebrow right back at her.  “Of course not.” 

 

She hummed again, and that was that.  The conversation drifted away to other things, and it wasn’t until later, when Shiro and Keith were disappearing backstage and Lance was standing up to go check on him that she brought it back up.  

 

“You take good care of him,” Allura said.  “He deserves someone sweet like you.” 

 

“I’m sweet?” Lance asked. 

 

“Like sugar.” 

 

Lance just hoped Keith Kogane had a sweet tooth. 

  
  
  


…

  
  


“This is stupid.” 

 

“You’re stupid.  Hurry up and come out of there.” 

 

“I can’t do this, Pidge.  He’s going to laugh in my face.” 

 

“Maybe.  That’d be hilarious.” 

 

“Shut up.  Go get Hunk.  He’s better at this.” 

 

“Hunk’s in his evening lab.  Grow a pair and get out there.” 

 

“That’s sexist.” 

 

“Fine.  Grow a vagina.  Lance, come on, for the love of God.” 

 

Lance thumped his head against the bathroom door and groaned miserably.  “Pidge….” 

 

He could practically hear Pidge roll her eyes through the door.  “Don’t make me call your mother,” she said, and that was a threat if he’d ever heard one.  Lance wasn’t even sure how his mother could be involved in this, or if Pidge even had her number.  Nevertheless, that wasn’t something he wanted to risk. 

 

Lance swallowed his pride, straightened his shirt, and stepped back to open the bathroom door.  Pidge was standing on the other side, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.  She looked him up and down before holding Matt’s jacket out to him. 

 

“I’ll give it back at the end of the night,” he promised, slipping the thing over his shoulders and smoothing down the front.  Pidge shrugged and reached out to straighten his collar. 

 

“Don’t bother, it never fit him anyways.”

 

Lance grinned and couldn’t help rolling his eyes at her as she grabbed a comb and pulled him down so she could fuss with his hair.  He’d fix it himself in a minute.  “What am I going to do with a suit jacket anyways?” 

 

“Dress up fancy when you take your boyfriend on dates?” Pidge offered. 

 

“He’s not my boyfriend yet.”  Lance’s stomach flipped over just thinking about it. 

 

“He’s about to be.” 

 

Lance shrugged her off of him and stepped in front of the mirror, fussing with his hair and frowning at his reflection.  He looked fine.  Hell, he looked fantastic.  Lance was willing to admit that to himself.  He was wearing blue jeans and a short sleeve button up shirt, but the two shades of blue made him look a little bit like the sky, and not in a good way.  Matt’s suit jacket helped, the black fabric offsetting the light colors and kind of making the whole outfit look more sophisticated. His hair was combed but generally the same as always, but then again, it was hard to mix it up at this length.  He’d made up for it with his eyes though.  Between the color of his shirt and the extra help, they were really kind of popping. 

 

“Are you wearing eyeliner?” Pidge asked, leaning in suspiciously.  Lance rucked his shirt up and put on an extra layer of deodorant, just in case.

 

He saw his reflection flush in the mirror.  “Maybe.”

 

“God, you’re so gay.” 

 

Lance scoffed at her.  “Shut up, Katie, you useless lesbian.” 

 

Rather than retaliating further  -which Lance would have appreciated, honestly.  The distraction of bickering with Pidge was warmly welcomed-  Pidge wrapped an arm around Lance’s waist and hugged him sideways.  “You’re gonna do great,” she said, squeezing the air out of him.  He sighed.  “Go get ‘em, tiger.” 

  
  
  


…

  
  


He only had to go down one floor, but it felt like one of the longest walks of his life.  There were a few other times when he’d been as nervous as he felt right then- his scene with Keith at that first play party back in November.  His first time entering Altea.  That speech he’d given in his freshman communication class where he’d accidentally deleted his assignment and ended up free styling it for his midterm.  That time he’d put a huge dent in his brother’s car and had to tell him in front of everyone.  That time he set off a whole box of bottle rockets when he was ten and “ran away from home” for the afternoon instead of facing his parents. 

 

Okay, so he was nervous a lot, whatever.  This situation was less likely to end with people being angry or disappointed with him, but it still had the potential to end in absolute devastation.  

 

If Lance ended the evening watching Legally Blonde and crying into a bucket of ice cream, Pidge owed him five dollars.  They had a bet going. 

 

Lance could only draw out the thirty second walk for so long.  He stood outside of Keith’s dorm room fussing with the sleeves of his jacket and rocking on the balls of his feet.  Okay.  He could do this.  It wasn’t a big deal.  He’d asked out a dozen girls in his lifetime.  He’d been rejected plenty of times.  He could do this without being a huge spazz about it. 

 

But none of those girls had been  _ Keith _ , and none of them had known his darkest secrets or shared a bed with him or danced with him at Christmas parties or sat with him while he cried.  He’d cared for people before, of course, but this was  _ different. _

 

God, Lance was going to throw up.

 

Before he got the chance to, he raised his hand and knocked. 

 

A few painfully long seconds stretched on as Keith called out, “Hold on!” and made some shuffling noises behind the closed door.  Moments later the door swung open, and there he was, a vision in a pair of boxers, an oversized t-shirt that he’d stolen from Lance (and Lance had stolen from Hunk), hair pulled back into a haphazard ponytail and glasses settled on his face.

 

He stood there in the doorway, looked Lance up and down, and said, “Well I feel under dressed.” 

 

“Did you lose your contacts again?” Lance asked him, shoving his hands in his pockets to occupy them and rocking back on his heels.  Keith shrugged. 

 

“Tore one in half,” he said.  “Can’t afford new ones for a while.  What… what are you doing?” 

 

Lance couldn’t help the smile that crept over his face.  “You should clean up a little.” 

 

Keith crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, but there was a grin on his face.  “You taking me somewhere?” he asked.  Lance chuckled nervously. 

 

“Maybe.” 

 

Keith shrugged and waved Lance inside, saying “Give me a second,” as he dug through his drawers and held a hairbrush between his teeth.  They’d had a lot of fun with that hairbrush over Christmas break, when the dorms were empty and there hadn’t been anybody to overhear them.  Now… probably wasn’t the time to be thinking about that.  Lance sat down on Keith’s desk chair and crossed his legs. 

 

“So where are we going?” he asked. 

 

“It’s a surprise.” 

 

“Oh yeah?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

  
  


…

  
  


“Careful, careful.”  Keith would be careful if he could see.  As it was, he kept a firm grip on Lance’s arm, kept his eyes closed behind the palm of Lance’s hand, and did his best to trust him. 

 

“Where are we going?” he asked.  He couldn’t believe he’d showered and dressed to play blind man’s bluff.  Lance chuckled quietly, the sound higher pitched and breathier than his normal laugh.  Lance was  _ nervous _ .  Weird.  Keith was ridiculously curious about what was going on.  

 

The shaky elevator they were riding dinged and there was the sound of doors opening.  Keith followed Lance’s guide as he steered him outside, and continued following him wherever they were.  The wind was blowing, throwing Keith’s hair everywhere.  They must have been outside. 

 

“Are we on a roof?” Keith asked. 

 

“Stop trying to guess.” 

 

“It’s a roof, isn’t it?  You’re going to get me suspended.” 

 

“And then you might finally relax, God forbid,” Lance griped back.  “It’s not a roof.  Hush.” 

 

Keith hushed.  Lance wouldn’t get all dressed up and make a show like this for no reason.  Well, okay.  Yeah he would, but if it wasn’t important, he wouldn’t be acting nervous.  Lance very rarely acted nervous, not when he knew how to power through and paste on a smile like it was the easiest thing in the world, diving into jokes and conversations that charmed the hell out of anyone around him.  

 

Keith was a little more than jealous.

 

But this wasn’t that Lance.  This wasn’t the ‘happy go lucky’ attitude that he put on display for everyone.  This Lance was tripping over his own feet and laughing nervously and obviously going through a lot of effort to do something here.  It was endearing, and it was just the two of them.

 

Lance felt comfortable enough to be openly nervous around Keith.  The least Keith could do was humor him. 

 

After a good amount of walking, Lance’s hands found his own and guided his hands up to touch something.  They settled on cold stone, and Lance’s fingers dragged over his wrist as he pulled away.  Keith could hear traffic nearby, practically right underneath him.  He bit his lip. 

 

“Ready?” Lance asked, hand tightening over his eyes for just a moment.  Keith nodded.  Lance chuckled again.

 

“Okay,” he said, “Open your eyes.” 

 

The first thing Keith saw when he opened his eyes was the strip, shining and magnificent against the nightfallen sky.  It shone with every color of the rainbow, casinos standing out from each other, each competing to be the flashiest like attractions in an arcade.  The ferris wheel was going, lights changing from purple to blue to green.  The Hard Rock, dressed up like a fluorescent guitar, flashed to mimic someone plucking the strings.  The Luxor, a magnificent black pyramid that was impressive to look at during the  _ daytime _ was lined with lights, and the point at the top sent a beacon of light into the sky, disappearing into the depths of space.

 

Keith followed it up.  There weren’t many stars to see with all the light pollution, but Keith could at least make out the ‘scoop’ part of the big dipper.  

 

He sighed quietly, realizing he’d been holding his breath, and turned his attention back to the shining lights of Vegas. 

 

“Wow…” he murmured, casting a glance back at Lance, who looked overjoyed. 

 

“That’s not even the best part,” he said.  He turned and took off, sneakers pounding against the concrete floor they were standing on.  They were on a parking garage, Keith realized.  Two lone cars were parked on the top level, and besides the background buzz of city noises, it was absolutely quiet.  

 

Keith pushed off the wall and sprinted after Lance, catching up to him at the other side of the garage.  He leaned against the wall there, pressing his shoulder into Lance’s and following the other boy’s gaze. 

 

Past the surrounding city, stretching out into the mountains, the lights of houses seemed to twinkle like a galaxy stuck on land.  Keith’s mouth fell open.  Lance continued to beam. 

 

“It’s my favorite view in the city,” he said quietly.  “I miss the stars, but this almost makes up for it, don’t you think?” 

 

He turned a bashful grin towards Keith, and if Keith thought the lights had left him breathless, he was wrong.  Lance literally stole his breath away. 

 

“They’re beautiful…” he whispered, not able to tear his eyes away from Lance.  Lance had freckles nestled into the bridge of his nose and scattered across his cheekbones, almost like a constellation on his face.  His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. 

 

“ _ You’re _ beautiful,” he whispered back, and then immediately glanced away.  Keith pressed his lips together and looked back off into the mountains. 

 

“Stole the words out of my mouth…” he responded.  Lance bumped their shoulders together.  Keith couldn’t help but laugh. 

 

There was a sudden intake of breath and Keith watched as Lance’s fingers started to fidget against the cold stone of the wall supporting them.  Keith stared straight down, only a little dizzy from the height of being six stories up.  He grinned, considered spitting into the bushes, thought better of it. 

 

“So there’s another reason I brought you up here,” Lance said after apparently properly preparing himself. 

 

“Besides the lights?” 

 

Lance nodded.  “Besides the lights.  I mean… the lights are special, and- and like, y’know,  _ you _ ’re special, so I wanted to show you them. Or.” 

 

“I’m special?” Keith asked, grinning just a little bit.  He was kind of enjoying how flustered Lance was over all of this.  Kind of concerned about whatever he was trying to say, but mostly amused at this point. 

 

Lance wrinkled his nose up and waved his hand in Keith’s direction.  “Ba-ba-ba wait.  Shut up and let me finish.” 

 

Keith held both hands up and grinned.  “Okay, okay.”

 

Lance sucked in another breath and stared off into the distance.  Keith didn’t know what to do to help, so he settled on dropping his head onto Lance’s shoulder.  Lance froze. 

 

“So you know I like you.” 

 

Keith grinned. “I had an idea.” 

 

Lance ignored him and carried on.  “And I was just wondering.  If you’d like to go out.  With me.” 

 

Keith picked his head up to stare at Lance, a bit perplexed.  “Go out?” he asked.  “We already go out.  Like, a lot.  We’re out right now.”   Lance cut him off by reaching out and pressing a finger to Keith’s lips, literally shutting him up, as he let out an exasperated sigh. 

 

“No.  I mean, like.  God, I’m such a loser.  I can’t even- here you are, at a  _ parking garage _ , and I can’t believe I thought that was romantic, you probably think it’s so dumb-” Lance was officially rambling, but Keith was still confused enough that he didn’t pull Lance’s hand from his mouth to interrupt.  “-and just, look at you, with your  _ hair _ , and you’re wearing  _ my shirt _ -” 

 

Keith hadn’t realized it was Lance’s t-shirt he was wearing until Lance brought it up, but sure enough a glance down showed the tiny “soccer camp ‘13” on the left corner.  He’d just known this one was clean, and Lance had been so dressed up.  He’d figured a white t-shirt under a hoodie was nicer than anything else he owned. 

 

“I just-” 

 

Keith couldn’t take it anymore.  He took Lance’s wrist and pulled his hand down, not letting go once his mouth was free.  “Wait,” he interrupted.  “Did you just say romantic?” 

 

Lance’s blush was instantaneous and amazing.  “Um.” 

 

“It kind of sounds like you’re making fun of me.” 

 

“Kind of the opposite, actually,” Lance choked out.  Keith cocked his head to the side.  Lance made a sound like he was dying and tipped his head back. 

 

“I’m so  _ bad at this _ .  I flirt with people all the time, and I can’t even manage to-” 

 

“You’re flirting with me?” Keith asked, starting to catch on but keeping his voice as innocent as he could manage.  Lance made another frustrated noise, and his hand tightened around Keith’s where they’d apparently started holding hands.  Huh. 

 

“No,  _ oye _ , you’re  _ so annoying, _ ” Lance snapped out.  “I’m trying to ask you to be my boyfriend!” 

 

Keith stared at Lance with wide eyes, watching Lance’s face go from angry to surprised to mortified in two seconds flat.  His face got impossibly redder, and he pressed his free hand over his eyes, dropping his head back again. 

 

“Oh my God I can’t believe I just-” 

 

If Keith didn’t stop him now, he was pretty sure Lance would never stop talking.  He squeezed Lance’s hand and said, “Yes.” 

 

Lance’s hand fell away from his eyes.  “What?” he asked.

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Yes?”

 

Keith bit back a grin.  “ _ Yes _ .” 

 

“Yes!”  Lance was on him in an instant, hugging Keith around his middle and lifting him off his feet, swinging the two of them around while Keith laughed and latched onto him, hoping like hell they didn’t stumble off the parking garage and plummet to their deaths.  

 

Lance was panting when he set Keith down on the ground again.  “No joking?” 

 

Keith shook his head.  “No joking.  Boyfriends?” 

 

The smile that lit up Lance’s face could have lit up the entire city, overpowering the already brilliant Vegas lights and fighting back the darkness into the depths.  Or at least, that was how Keith saw it.  He may have been a bit biased, but nothing could have made him care.  Not when Lance was backing him into the wall of the garage and pressing their mouths together, fitting himself perfectly against Keith’s front and clutching onto his shoulders like a lifeline. 

 

Keith kissed him back enthusiastically, wondering when kissing Lance had become this easy, when it had started feeling like a habit.  He hoped it would always feel that way.  He hoped it would only get easier. 

 

They only pulled apart, a few minutes later, when a voice called out from nearby.  “I’m looking for a Lance McClain!” the guy shouted, standing at the edge of the parking garage’s stairs and holding a pizza box in his hand, mopping sweat off his forehead with his baseball cap. His shirt said ‘Dominoes.’  Keith looked at Lance and raised an eyebrow.  

 

“You ordered pizza?” he asked. 

 

“To celebrate!”  

 

“Optomistic.” 

 

“Always.”  Lance pulled away from Keith and bounced over, shouting “Right here, my man!” as he waved.  Keith watched him, laughing under his breath and shaking his head, then hopped up onto the wall of the parking garage and staring off at the lights again.  The wall was two feet wide and sturdy, so he wasn’t concerned about falling off.  The lights really did look like stars from here.  They were nothing compared to the light behind Lance’s eyes when he returned, settling the pizza box on the wall and swinging his legs over to sit next to Keith. 

 

“I’ve never had a boyfriend before,” Keith confessed, earning him a snort of laughter from the other boy. 

 

“Yeah, duh,” he said, slipping his arm around Keith’s waist and pressing a kiss to his cheek.  “We’ll figure it out.”  If ‘figuring it out’ looked anything like last semester had, Keith didn’t have a single complaint.


End file.
